


Castaway.

by springburn



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bond between men, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Marriage, Married with children AU, Shipwrecks, Wilderness Survival, bad language, relationships, sexually explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: Malcolm wakes with the dawn, he's thinking about an up and coming trip with his best friend.





	1. Morning Mood.

**Author's Note:**

> This story idea comes from a picture posted on tumblr. Then someone suggested that a Castaway style story would be good. (Although I didn't think a tropical island was appropriate!)  
> Anyway, here it is. 
> 
> We're starting sexy right from the off in this story. Because, well, why not, and anyway, Malcolm loves loving, and he's a randy sod! Although it won't all be like that of course. 
> 
> I haven't written this Malcolm au for over a year. The last story was 'Clan McDonald' which this story follows on from. There is also mention of Malcolm's swimming lessons which are in the story 'Just Keep Swimming.' Both of which are in the series 'The Thick of It minifics'
> 
> All the geographical information is real. Most of the sailing stuff is too. As usual I've tried to be as accurate as possible. But it _is_ a story so there is always a certain amount of artistic licence!
> 
> Thank you to my friend @misswinterseat for making the title picture, which includes the two 'beardy' pictures which were the inspiration for the story idea.

CHAPTER ONE.  
MORNING MOOD. 

Malcolm woke with the dawn, as he often did when he was troubled about something. 

Well, he wasn't really troubled as such. In fact all was pretty much right with the world. 

But he'd promised to go on a trip with Jamie, and it was bothering him, because he didn't really want to go. 

Spending time with his best friend was not the issue. He didn't need to be asked twice to do that, it was the nature of the trip that was the problem. 

Turning over, he glimpsed the glossy brunette head on the pillow next to him, the person who made his life complete. 

Sam. 

His wife. 

Never would he tire of those words.  
_'His wife.'_  
Sam was, simply, everything.  
The human being who knew him best of anyone, even better than Jamie, whom he grew up with, and who was like a brother to him. 

She cared for him, supported him, kept him safe. She put up with his moods and his traumas, his insecurities and a whole host of other shite, and she rarely complained. 

Now, she was also the mother of his three children. 

Sometimes he just found it almost impossible to get his head around that fact.  
He was a dad three times over.  
Never, in his wildest dreams did he expect to be. His life until marrying Sam was composed in the key of fuck. He couldn't have imagined that it would end up being the best thing that ever happened to him. 

In fact, it was the making of him. Turned out he was most definitely 'Dad' material. A natural. Who'd a thunk?  
Malcolm, the devoted father, who would walk through fire, fight an entire army, brave any hardship, just to keep them safe. 

His children adored him, and he them. 

He was thoroughly, unconditionally loved by all four of his little family.  
Something he never thought possible not so many years ago, when he only looked forward to a bleak and lonely future. Consigned to the dustbin of the political world. Lucky to escape prison, some said. Although they didn't know the whole story.  
At least not then.  
Since then there'd been a trial, Russell Brewer's conviction.  
Throughout it all Sam had been right by his side.  
His rock.  
Loving, comforting, protecting.  
It took him a long time to even comprehend, let alone trust that love. But now he did. Now he knew. He belonged to Sam, and she was his, totally. The children were a part of them both, equally. 

Discovering he'd even got her pregnant was a bit of a shock!  
Didn't think he had it in him. 

Since then, marriage and two more children.....apparently Malcolm only had to cough and Sam was expecting.  
Now they were being VERY careful.....a fourth child was, although not necessarily out of the question, not really on.....he was quite content with the three!

Lying still under the duvet, he listened. 

No sound from their rooms yet.  
Good!  
It was so peaceful, Malcolm Tucker felt that he was the luckiest fucker alive. 

Spooning himself against Sam's body, he carefully insinuated an arm around her bare midriff.

She squeaked, waking with a start.

"Oh, Malcolm! Christ! Your fingers are like ice! Dammit!" 

"Sorry!" He whispered, nuzzling her back, placing little kisses against her naked shoulder, while his chilly hand explored gently. 

Sam groaned. 

"Maaalc!" She grumbled. "Honestly! Talk about _'one up, all up'!_ It's early, I'm still sleepy." 

But it was too late, and her husband knew it. Her body betraying her, shifting her legs slightly to allow him better access, pushing her backside into him, feeling him rock hard against her buttocks. Aching for her, as he often was, especially in the mornings. 

"Oh God!" She moaned, as she began to melt into the wicked caress of his index finger, working its magic, just as he always did. She could never resist him for long.  
Slowly, deftly he rolled her onto her back, his mouth mapping her skin tenderly; her neck, her breasts, down towards her stomach. Pulling himself over her slightly. 

Already she was beginning to tilt her head backwards, arching herself, exposing her throat to his lips, little breathy gasps as he continued to bring her closer and closer. 

"Want you......" She murmured. "Malc......please....." 

Withdrawing his hand as she opened her legs wide for him, his own body now positioned over hers, he teased her with the tip of his cock for a few agonising seconds, before she did what he most desired and begged him. 

How he loved it when she did that!  
So undone that she was desperate for him, wet and ready, lifting her hips towards him, pleading with him to enter her. 

It was what he lived for. Being wanted. Needed in that way.  
The sexual side of their relationship was so important to him, because it was an affirmation of his love and desire for her, when they were as one he felt whole. Surrounded by her. Both physically and metaphorically.  
It was powerful for him, he craved it. An emotional bond of closeness which cemented together all the other aspects of their union. 

"Malcolm.....fuck me.....God.......yes......" 

He pushed inside her with a groan of satisfaction, angling himself to give her the maximum pleasure, he wasn't going to last, he knew that, because, well, he just knew!  
The sinews in his neck tightened as he fought to control himself.  
Her small hand moved down between their bodies now, stroking him as he penetrated her, touching his balls, shit, it was delicious, but it was more than he could stand. 

He peaked suddenly, almost without warning, thrusting hard, attempting to make the least amount of noise possible, lest he should waken his brood!  
Beneath him, he could feel the glorious sensation of her inner walls contracting against him, as she came, seemingly milking him, drawing out the acutely sensual moments of ejaculation, as he pumped his last. 

Falling forwards into her embrace, she breathed against his ear, before taking his face in her hands and kissing him strongly, still undulating her hips as the last of the ripples of orgasm died away. 

"Oh God Malc! I fucking love you. How do you always make me feel like that? Time after time?" 

His flushed cheeks bore witness to the effort he'd put in, and he smiled down at her, pulling out and rolling away.  
Sated.  
His skinny chest rising and falling with the aftermath.  
Headrush!  
His heart at bursting point, yet calming slowly and returning to normal, leaving behind the wonderful feeling of completion which followed the release.  
"Christ!" He puffed. "You're fucking amazing......touching me like that.....jeez.....couldn't hold it a moment longer......I'm done for......need to sleep again now!" 

Mercifully, because it had been so early, he was able to doze again.  
The smell of their sex was strong on him, and he relished it.  
Normally he'd need to pee....but not today. 

Wrapping his arms around Sam's body, he curled himself, closed his eyes, slumbered, deep and completely satisfied. 

oOo

At around eight, small voices could be heard coming from the boys room. Jamie and Robbie, ganging up on their little sister Grace....who at three years old, was probably smarter than both her brothers put together. 

Malcolm's eyes slowly unstuck themselves and he yawned, peeling himself from Sam's warm torso. 

"Kids are awake." He remarked absentmindedly, to the ceiling above his head. 

"No shit Sherlock!" Replied the muffled voice from beside him. 

"You wanna shower first, or shall I?" 

Sam rolled over, stretching herself like a cat.

"I'll go first.....I'm all sticky.....no thanks to you, my naughty gigolo!" She grinned. 

"Gig.....what...? Fuck you......" Malcolm made a grab for her, but she squealed and wriggled free, throwing back the covers and bolting for the bathroom.  
All he managed was a smack on her bare arse as she fled the bed in a fit of girlish giggling, closing the door behind her.  
"Yeah.....you love it!" Her parting shot. 

Malcolm, still chuckling to himself, flopped back amongst the pillows as the bedroom door burst open, and his three young pups tumbled in.  
Leaping onto the bed with their father. 

Feigning sternness, he glared crossly at the trio. 

"What's the meaning of this?" He demanded. "How many times have I told you.....no coming into this room without knocking! This is mum and dad's space......" 

Three pairs of wide eyes, Jamie and Grace's the colour of sea foam, Robbie's, a rich hazel, stared at him for a second, falling still and quiet, apprehensive. 

"Oh, come here, you wee monkeys!" He growled, grabbing them all and randomly dispensing tickles, rubbing his stubbly face against their soft cheeks.  
Cries and shrieks and wild laughter ensued, until they all collapsed together in a heap. 

"That's enough!" He bellowed, breathless. "Now, get lost, while Daddy puts on some boxers and has a shave." The order given, again with mock severity. "Go on! Away with you weans.....leave me in peace!" 

"Daddy is a nudie bot! Daddy is a nudie bot!" Jamie chanted, capering about in his pyjamas, before they dispatched themselves back to their rooms along the landing. 

Sam emerging from the shower in a robe, with a towel wrapped, turban like around her head, raising her eyebrows at her dishevelled husband.  
"What the hell's going on in here? It sounds like a farmyard!" She cried. "Malcolm, are you whipping them to a frenzy before they've even had breakfast?" 

"Me? Fuck no! They all came piling in here when they heard you get up!" 

"And I sincerely hope you're not flashing your man parts to Grace.....she's curious enough about her brother's anatomy as it is! She asked me the other day why she doesn't have a willy!" 

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course I'm not! I was under the covers....and least that part of me was! Jesus! She's three for Christ's sake.....how does she even KNOW about willies?" 

"She's as bright as a button that's how! And she sees the boys running around with nothing on all the time, they're most definitely not shy.....they don't care two hoots who sees them!" 

"Nor should they at their age! They're little kids for fucks sake! Plenty of time for hiding themselves when they're older. You finished in there now.....? I need a shower bad!" 

Threading her arms around his middle she caught him, squeezing him tight, laying her towel covered head against him for a few seconds.  
Drawing back she looked up into his face, her eyes soft and kind. Reaching up to muss his steel grey hair with her finger tips. 

"You're fine!" She smiled. "You smell of Malcolm, my Malcolm.....it's unique to you, and I love it."

Her spouse laughed.

"B.O. you mean!" He retorted. "That and sex!" 

"No, it's not a sweat smell, it's musky....manly....I dunno. Citrus? After shave? I can't describe it! But it's you. Your scent.  
I used to get a waft of it in the office....when we worked together.....it used to make my legs go weak!" 

"What? You're fucking with me!" Malcolm declared, holding her at arms length, his eyebrows raised in an expression of incredulity. "Why was I not aware of this?" 

Standing up on her tiptoes, Sam touched his lips with her own. 

"It's the truth! It was one of the first things I noticed about you. You always smelled so good. That hasn't changed." She kissed him again. "Go on! Stinky! I have three hungry mouths to feed! Go have your shower!" 

oOo

Breakfast time in the Tucker household was a little like feeding time at the zoo. 

Sam was a stickler for a good breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day.  
Send them off with a good start and it would give them energy to last all morning. 

In the past it had always bugged her that Malcolm didn't eat, particularly first thing.  
When she was his PA at Number 10, and in opposition, she constantly made it her mission to feed him in the mornings.  
She would bring in coffee, croissant, muffin....and later, fruit, porridge or granola and other foods she considered better for the digestion.  
His eating habits appalled her. 

Now, breakfast was a ritual. 

A meal the whole family shared round the table or the kitchen counter, together.  
James (always referred to as 'Jamie'), the eldest at six, was now at school. His brother, Robbie, younger by only a year, had commenced his Reception year. Grace was at nursery.  
Their appetites were roughly the equivalent of a plague of locusts.  
The trio fell ravenously onto anything she placed in front of them like a pride of lions ripping a carcass.  
Food was wolfed down, and they were on their way.  
"Please may I get down mummy?"......

......and they were gone. 

This morning was a little different. 

They were playing upstairs. 

Malcolm, showered and shaved, was packing. 

He listened as he heard her call. 

"Come on you lot! Breakfast is ready!" 

Closely followed by the thunder of feet and they raced down the stairs. 

He smiled to himself. He'd miss this.  
Shrugging, he resigned himself. 

It was only a few days. 

But a boat trip? 

Fuck! 

Malcolm hated boats. He wasn't keen on water generally, if he was brutally honest, and the two things tended to go together. 

Only comparatively recently he'd learned to swim, after years of being frightened of the water.

At least now he could take the kids to the local baths. Watch as they splashed about, join in occasionally, paddle about a bit.  
That was about his limit. 

The sea. 

It held no real allure for him. 

But this was Jamie, his best friend and brother in arms, and he was making this pilgrimage for a specific reason. 

A trip he had made many times with his father. 

Now, he was taking this final voyage. 

In memoriam. 

To scatter his dad's ashes on the waters where he spent some of his happiest times with his son.  
Fishing, pootling about. It had been his dying wish. 

Memories. 

He'd asked Malcolm to go with him.  
Not just as support, but as a fellow 'rememberer'. 

Malcolm had always loved and admired Jamie's father. The kind of Dad he aspired to be himself, and the kind he wished his own father had been to him.  
Malcolm and his sister were always made welcome at the McDonald household.  
Jamie's parents often provided them with a safe haven, a respite, a port in the storm which was Malcolm's and Nancy's sometimes traumatic childhood. 

How could he refuse his mate? 

He couldn't. 

So he was going. 

They would all travel up to Scotland together. 

Malcolm, Sam and the children. Jamie, Ellie, little Jess, and bump......

.....bump because Ellie McDonald was six months pregnant, and resplendent! 

Jamie McDonald was so fucking happy when his wife finally told him, that he almost pissed himself! 

Then he cried like a baby. 

Thank Christ for that!  
His cock worked!  
He was ecstatic. 

They would visit Nancy and her husband, the Tucker kids would get to see their cousins. 

Then the two men would set sail. To be met the other end by their wives and bairns.

What could possibly go wrong?


	2. We Are Sailing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Jamie are setting sail. Sam, Ellie and the children have come to see them off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TWO.  
WE ARE SAILING. 

Very early in the morning. May. Wednesday. 4am to be exact. Dawn on the horizon. 

The sky above Gourock was just beginning to change. 

A filter paper of chalky colours, like a pavement artist's sketch, mirrored, sweeping across the water to where the little town nestled, in the lee of a small bay, protected by Tower Hill behind it.  
On top of which a crenelated, circular stone Keep stood sentinel. Now a stately ruin like a broken tooth against the skyline. It looked down benevolently onto the grey and red stone houses, the small Kirk, all huddled against the hillside below. 

Purples melded seamlessly into yellows and oranges against the strips of cirrus cloud, painted as if with watercolour, the stars gradually winking out one by one. A bright, waxy half moon still hung, as if suspended on a wire in the fading darkness as they looked across to Dunoon on the opposite side, swathed as it was in a thin veil of early morning mist.  
Everything reflected in the still water below, a mill pond with barely a ripple. 

Here on the headland, the mighty Clyde opened its maw, turning, widening, quickening as the tide funnelled down into the Firth and headed off towards the Irish Sea. 

Malcolm's windcheater was zipped right up to his neck to ward off the morning chill.  
Squinting against the growing light, his eyes narrowed as he watched a skein of geese fly overhead, honking as they went. 

He blew on his large hands ineffectually to warm them. Flapping his arms against his torso.  
His lack of body fat rendered him almost permanently cold, prompting him to habitually wear several layers. Today he also sported a scarf, wound several times around his neck, peeping out from beneath the jacket, and a black peaked felt cap, which Sam had to admit, rather suited him. His shades perched artfully on top of it. 

Their breath hovered in clouds around their faces as the two men prepared to take the boat from its mooring at the Royal Gourock Yacht Club, where Jamie's father had been a member for more than forty years.  
Bringing his young son to sail, or go off on fishing trips in the school holidays, and later, as a grown man, providing a welcome escape from the hectic life he led in London, away from the madness. A chance to kick back, breathe real, fresh air and forget all the shite of his mental world of politics. 

Standing on the quay a little knot of folk waited to see them off.  
Sam, pale and serious, in a thick coat and woolly hat, in spite of it being late spring, shepherding three very sleepy Tucker youngsters in her wake.  
Shivering there, from being woken at this ungodly hour, dragged from their cosy beds, to see Daddy sail away. 

Jamie loaded the last of their gear aboard, including the urn containing his father's ashes. 

Ellie came forward, her anorak stretched taut over her burgeoning belly, giving her husband a sideways hug, daughter Jess clinging to her legs. 

"Wish I was coming!" She whispered. 

"No way! You're not going out on the open water in your condition!" He replied, kissing her warmly. "Besides, you don't have your sea legs!" 

"Nor does Malcolm!" Came the retort. 

His little girl was swung into the air, and squeezed tight. 

"You look after mummy okay, sweetheart? And I'll see you Thursday.....should be around noon, if all goes to plan."

The youngster nodded and leaned her head sleepily against his shoulder. 

Malcolm came towards his little brood. Arms outstretched. 

Robbie Tucker, his thumb stuffed into his mouth, was on Sam's arm, held close against her hip. Standing next to her, Jamie, his best friend's namesake, shuffling his cold feet in his red wellington boots, holding onto the leg of her trousers.  
Young Grace, her father's blonde, cloud headed Princess held him close, her cheek against that of her beloved daddy, skinny arms wound around his neck. Her face was so meltingly soft that Malcolm wanted to eat her up. She had a scent that was just.....Grace.....and Malcolm pressed his nose against her, breathing it in. 

Malcolm never wanted to let them go.

He felt as if he were heading off up the fucking Amazon, instead of on a two day trip to Oban. 

Sam bent, setting Robbie onto his feet, so that she could envelope her husband into a warm bear hug.  
"You take care of yourself. Captain Ahab!" She tried a joke, although she really felt far from jovial.  
"I'll see you in Oban on Thursday, we'll come down to the quayside to meet you with the noon tide." 

They kissed for a long time, causing the Tucker children to start giggling. 

"Fucking love you...." Malcolm hissed in his wife's ear. "It's only a couple of days....." he was trying to convince himself as much as Sam. ".....we'll be fine." 

They parted reluctantly. The chill air had made their noses red and their eyes water, at least that's what they told themselves.

Goodbyes completed, the two men boarded, the mooring rope dropped and they moved away slowly, out onto the calm glassy water. 

"Keep your bloody life jacket on!" Was Sam's parting shot. 

Ellie herded the weary children back to the car. 

But Sam stood there alone, as if frozen, watching. 

Long after the little craft disappeared from sight.  
Her hand held up, shielding her eyes from the glare, as the tangerine sun appeared slowly behind her, casting its golden light down the hillside and out across the river mouth. 

Finally, turning, she made her way to the vehicle. Climbing inside. Sniffing noticeably. 

"They'll be right." Ellie confirmed, taking her hand. "Jamie knows what he's doing."

"Yes. But Malcolm doesn't." Came her watery reply. 

Fixing her seat belt, she started the engine and puffed out a deep sigh, almost as if banishing the feeling of foreboding she had. 

Sam had felt like this before. 

On the eve of the Goolding Enquiry. 

A slight nausea. Lightheaded. 

Oh heck! It was half four in the morning for Christ's sake!  
She was just tired, and not fully awake. 

It was fine. They'd be fine. 

"Let's go find some breakfast!" She said brightly. Prompting cheers from the back seat. 

Later that day, the plan was to drive up to Oban, where the two couples had hired a cottage for the rest of the week.  
This was the part of the holiday Sam was most looking forward to. 

All being together. 

Thursday couldn't come quickly enough!


	3. Tha' She Blows!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is finding his sea legs. Jamie is in his element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Shipping Forecast by Seamus Heaney.
> 
> Dogger, Rockall, Malin, Irish Sea:  
> Green, swift upsurges, North Atlantic flux  
> Conjured by that strong gale-warning voice,  
> Collapse into a sibilant penumbra.  
> Midnight and closedown. Sirens of the tundra,  
> Of eel-road, seal-road, keel-road, whale-road, raise  
> Their wind-compounded keen behind the baize  
> And drive the trawlers to the lee of Wicklow.  
> L’Etoile, Le Guillemot, La Belle Hélène  
> Nursed their bright names this morning in the bay  
> That toiled like mortar. It was marvellous  
> And actual, I said out loud, ‘A haven,’  
> The word deepening, clearing, like the sky  
> Elsewhere on Minches, Cromarty, The Faroes.
> 
>  
> 
> This poem brings back such memories for me as a child growing up in a fishing community. Listening to the Shipping Forecast being read on the Radio before the 6am news bulletin. The names of each area so familiar.

CHAPTER THREE.  
THA' SHE BLOWS! 

Jamie McDonald steered them out into the main channel. Passing between the town of Largs on the mainland and the Isle of Bute.

"Dead fucking brilliant!" He breathed, throwing back his head, allowing the wind to catch his face. 

Malcolm smiled. 

"Do I do anything?" He called, holding his hands out to emphasise the question.

"Nah! You're right till we get to the turn." The breeze took his words away, but Malcolm got the gist and didn't feel the need to reply.  
It was one thing between them that was a given.  
Had been since they were kids.  
No need to talk.  
Just be. 

Understood. 

Today there was not much large freighter shipping for them to avoid, and what there was, was easily manoeuvred around, sticking to the shipping channels.  
His mate ruffled his own tousled brown head with gloved fingers, as he picked up the radio mic and gave his position to the coastguard via the GPS.  
The Marine Band radio crackled and spoke back a couple of times, the voice sounding almost garbled to Malcolm, but Jamie seemed to know what it was saying. 

_"Rainbow. Rainbow. Headed sou sou west. Latitude 53.7963 Longitude -4.8634. Wind veering westerly light to moderate. Fair....."_

There was more, but it was a foreign language to Malcolm Tucker as he perched himself on the top of the cabin, where he was out of his friend's way. Clearly he wasn't required to do anything technical, or otherwise, and he wouldn't have the first clue of what to do anyway, although he certainly wasn't above learning.  
For now he contented himself with taking the time to stare out at the passing shoreline as the little craft putted gently down the Firth. 

_'Rainbow'._

It was a nice vessel. A sleek fibreglass two man cabin cruiser, with mast and sail, but also a fine little Lister diesel engine.  
Beautifully made, built for cutting effortlessly through a light swell. 

Below deck was a tiny galley, bunks against each side of the hull to sleep on. Plus stowing space beneath. Cupboards for foodstuffs and spare clothes.  
Cosy.  
There was a small sheltered bench area to sit, aft, in the stern where the tiller was. 

Malcolm pulled his hat lower over his eyes, and watched the land slip by. 

He had never been much of an 'outdoorsy' person.  
Sport, other healthy pursuits like walking, cycling, swimming, somehow passed him by in his earlier life.  
Rather pasty and underexposed to ozone. Living a somewhat vampiric existence.  
He didn't mind going to the gym after a fashion, but actual fresh air? Nah! He wasn't bothered. 

That was at least until he married Samantha Cassidy. 

She enjoyed running, she loved the beach, in all weathers, she liked to go on long walks.  
Suddenly Malcolm found he quite enjoyed these things too. As long as he was suitably dressed, and it wasn't pissing down with rain, he found it all quite bracing and beneficial.  
It relaxed him. Put him at ease. Focussed his thoughts away from shite and onto more pleasant things. 

His children were all extremely active.  
Jamie loved football, just like his Godfather and namesake.  
Robbie and Grace liked swimming, running, and being out and about on their bikes.  
Fuck knows where that came from, certainly not from him. Their mother, he supposed. Sure as hell not from his side. No one was more uncoordinated! 

Learning to swim had been a big breakthrough. It opened doors to him that had previously been closed. Giving him a pastime he could join in and share with his young offspring, and a way to keep fit.  
It was fun. He liked it.  
Not perhaps entirely at home in the water, but at least not thrown into a panic if he did more than paddle.  
That was thanks to Sam. She was his teacher.  
Patiently. Gently.  
She helped him conquer his lifelong fear, and taught him to trust in her love at the same time.  
Catharsis.  
It was a fundamental change in him, Malcolm Tucker finally knew and accepted that he was loved.  
Unconditionally.  
It meant more to him than he could possibly say. 

oOo

Coming up on his left as he turned his attention towards it, was the full majesty of the Ayrshire coast, heading down passed Troon and the lighthouse at Turnberry.  
Over the pointed prow of the yacht, directly ahead of his gaze as it gently rose and fell, he could see Ailsa Craig.  
Looking like a vast bath bun sticking up out of the sea in the distance, a dark looming granite edifice, standing sentinel at the mouth of the Firth, as it had for millennia.  
His narrowed eyes scanned to his right to where the Isle of Arran sat, a hazy jewel. Its highest point, Goat Fell, with a smattering of snow on the top.  
Beyond and behind it, the long narrow point of the Mull of Kintyre prodded downwards. 

People described that peninsula as a finger, Malcolm considered it looked more like a limp, bell ended dick, but he mainly kept that opinion to himself. 

The sun had little heat in it, kept down by a stiffish breeze. 

Jamie, with consummate ease, unfurled and hauled the flapping sail aloft. Turning the craft into the wind.  
He moved along the sides and around the boat with the sure footedness of one who had done this for as long as he could remember.  
Once hoisted, he sat himself at the tiller, leaning on it with a practised nonchalance.  
The yacht now skimming along at a fair lick. 

"Malc! Mate!" Jamie cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled. "For fucks sake come and sit back here with me! If the boom goes over it'll knock your bloody head off." 

Catching his friend's drift, by his gestures rather than by what he was saying, Malcolm slid his bottom along the cabin rooftop and dropped down into the stern alongside his pal. 

"Thanks for doing this with me." A hand touched his arm gratefully and squeezed. "I really appreciate it." 

"Daft fucker! As if I'd say no!" 

"Yeah, but I know you're not much of a water lover......but Ellie couldn't possibly come." He replied, pulling something out of his wet-proof jacket pocket. 

"What you got there?" Malcolm looked curiously, as he was offered what looked at first like a peperami.  
Then he could see what it was.  
A big fat Cuban cigar.

"You're fucking kidding me? I'm no smoking that!" 

"Oh c'mon. This trip is a celebration of Dad's life. We are gonnae have a shot o' whiskey and a drag to the toast old man." 

Malcolm pulled a face. 

"Oh g'wan then......fire me up!" 

Jamie struck a light and held it to the blunt end, allowing it to catch before passing it to Malcolm, who then jammed it between his teeth, sucking on the other end and sending out a puff of foul smoke.  
He instantly dissolved into a paroxysm of violent coughing. 

"Fucking fuck me!" He spluttered, as his friend began to crease with laughter.  
"Tastes like it's made out of a Russian shot putter's pubic hair! Jesus Christ!" 

"Ah mate!" Jamie cackled. "Your face! What a picture! Classic!" 

"Lairy bastard!" Malcolm wheezed. "Give me the dram quick! To take the taste away.....I'm no lugging any more o' that......God Almighty!" 

A silver flask being passed over, he took a hefty swig, using the amber liquid as a mouthwash before swallowing it down. 

"Och! That's better. Dad or no Dad, that is a fucking bridge too far!" He hacked once more, before finally ridding himself of the smoky stench. "When are we doing the deed anyway?"  
He added, cocking his head towards the urn. 

"When we get round the turn, heading up towards Jura. That was always his favourite spot......I've got a wee poem to read." 

Malcolm raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"A wee poem.......? My! But you amaze me sometimes! A wee poem is it? Well I'll look forward to that!" 

"Don't take the piss you tosser! It's my way of sayin' goodbye."

Malcolm placed an arm around his friend's shoulder, tugging him to his side. 

"Mate. I'm no takin' the piss.....I'm genuinely surprised is all!" 

The blue eyes that looked into his were watery, swimming with held back emotion. 

"He was a gud man, your Da......he and your mam were so kind to me and our Nance......I'll never forget that as long as I live......" Malcolm spoke with feeling. 

"Aye." Came the reply. "He was that."


	4. Captain Pugwash.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rounding the turn at the Southend of the Mull of Kintyre, Malcolm has a go at steering. 
> 
> As the afternoon begins, the weather starts to deteriorate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any kid of a certain age who grew up in the UK will know Captain Pugwash.  
> An animated cartoon adventure, it was on the prime time TV slot just before the early evening news at the end of Children's Hour.  
> It told the adventures of pirate Pugwash on his ship The Black Pig, along with his crew, Master Mate, pirate Willy and Tom the cabin boy.  
> These names were later given the comedy 'double entendre' of Master Bates, seaman Stains and Roger the cabin boy!
> 
> Malcolm and Jamie are about to experience a 'weather bomb'. A sudden freak storm caused by a deep low pressure system forming in the North Atlantic and moving Eastwards towards the Hebridean Islands, hitting first Islay, then Jura, funnelling through the narrow gaps between the islands themselves.  
> Winds can reach speeds of 80mph with a huge swell, and conditions can change in moments.

CHAPTER FOUR.  
CAPTAIN PUGWASH. 

The morning passed effortlessly into early afternoon. 

As is pretty normal for the West Coast of Scotland, the sunshine decided it had given Glasgow and its environs quite enough cheerfulness for one day, and fucked off towards the Borders and across the Penines. 

Clouds rolled in overhead, scudding along at quite a pace.  
Gradually the blue patches grew less and less. 

Rounding the turn at the base of the spit of land forming the Mull of Kintyre required some tacking and a bit of fast manoeuvring. Heading almost north now, with the peninsula to their right, prior to entering the stretch of water known as the Sound of Jura. 

Jamie had given Malcolm the chance to experience the feel of the tiller. 

He wasn't entirely sure he wanted this chance, but he took it anyway. 

Steering for the first time took some getting used to, because the rudder took the opposite direction to the way the tiller was moved.  
Pushing it to the right made the yacht go left, and vice versa.  
Then there was the concept of Port and Starboard or Starbud, as Jamie called it, to master. 

"Why fucking complicate things by giving it another name? What's wrong with good old LEFT and RIGHT?" Malcolm complained. 

"Malc, it's not difficult.....Port is left, when you're on the deck facing the bow, and the light on the side of the hull is red. Starbud is right and the light on the hull is green.......that's just the way it is....."

"Fuck if I get it!" He replied grumpily. 

"Well, a gud way to remember is that the drink of Port is red, so is the light. The word 'Port' has four letters, so has the word 'Left'.....so there you go!" 

In spite of his misconceptions, Malcolm found that sitting at the stern, the tiller in his hand, he soon began to master the feel of the keel beneath him, the turn it made as he pushed the handle or pulled it towards him, the wind buffeting into his face, the salty spray as a wave hit the bow, the sail flapping then filling as they skimmed along, sea birds hovering as if suspended just to the side of him, their harsh cries rending the air. 

It was exhilarating. 

He'd quite expected to be barfing over the side, or into a bucket, prostrated with sea sickness, but he wasn't.  
Not in the slightest. 

Keeping his eyes on the horizon helped. The swell was not great as yet.  
Here, they were sheltered from the worst that the North Atlantic could throw at them. 

In the lee of the island of Islay. 

Just as the peninsula of the Mull of Kintyre protected the Ayrshire coast and the Firth of Clyde from storm and tempest, so Islay and Jura shielded the western flank of that spit of land from the roughest of weather, forming a channel between the two which grew increasingly narrow as they travelled north. 

Spectacular views.  
The hills seemingly rising up from the sea, shrouded in an almost phantom haze.  
Looming purple to his left now as he steered their small vessel closer to the Mull shoreline, whilst Jamie trimmed the sail, hugging the golden isle of Gigha, which floated, serene and green off the starboard bow.

Rejoining his friend, he opened his sandwich box, offering it to Malcolm, before taking one and chomping thoughtfully. 

"Nicely done there mate!" He remarked good naturedly. "You're a natural sailor." 

"The fuck I am!" Malcolm scoffed. "But I'm getting the hang......" 

"Well, I tell you what. How about you go down to the galley and set the little stove going. Make us a brew? That'd be grand." 

Malcolm stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, heading off to do as he was told. 

"If you're Captain Pugwash.....then who am I ?" He shot, before he disappeared below. 

"You're fucking Roger the cabin boy mate!" Jamie hooted. "Or Seaman Stains......" 

Malcolm turned in the hatchway, giving his pal a massive eye roll followed by a graphic two finger salute. 

It wasn't easy making tea on a moving vessel, but Malcolm managed, and the pair were soon side by side, both leaning on the tiller, sipping appreciatively. 

"So, Ellie okay then? All good?" He asked, watching, fascinated, as the terns flew low across the very crests of the waves.

"Yeah. No probs so far. So fucking happy Malc......I really am."

"I'm that chuffed for you, both of you, Jess'll be over the moon too, a little brother or sister!" 

"Your three are blooming, can't believe how quick they grow! Grace is such a little lady." 

"Tell me about it! Too fucking quick! She's obsessed with penises at the moment....wants to know why she doesn't have what her two brothers have got.....I have to be a bit careful undressing around her now. She's so fucking clever.....and extremely curious!" 

Jamie laughed out loud. 

oOo

Afternoon waned. 

From behind the cloud layer, the sinking sun sent a fan of golden rays which bathed the sea and the Paps of Jura in a celestial light. 

The magnificence was not lost even on one such as Malcolm, as he stood aft, shielding his eyes, watching as it sank lower. Taking out his phone, he fired off one shot. 

It was gone in a flourish behind the clouds, a moment, then lost forever. 

The drizzle began shortly afterwards. Wind picking up with alarming speed. 

"Where the fuck has this come from?" Malcolm moaned, zipping his jacket up to the neck again and pulling up his hood. 

So sudden. 

Everything was obliterated in less than fifteen minutes. 

"Dunno, but it's a bit worrying. I was hoping to get passed the Corryvreckan and into the shelter of Luing before dark....." 

Jamie's face showed mild concern, as he began battling with the large sail, in order to furl it and slow their progress. 

"Corryvreckan? What the fucks that? And why don't I like the sound of it?" Malcolm called. 

"It's a mile long gulf, between Jura and Scarba......and it's a fast, treacherous run of water, it kinda funnels, like a sink plug hole, there's a whirlpool there, we bypass it, go up the Sound of Luing, but you have to be a bit careful!" 

Malcolm's eyes widened. 

"A whirlpool? What the fuck? You're kidding me?" 

"Malc! I've run the gulf and into Luing countless times. It's okay! As long as you have your wits about you!"

"Jesus Jamie! Are you trying to fucking get me killed?" 

Before his friend could reply, a large wave broke against the bow, causing it to plunge downwards.  
Malcolm was hit in the face by the equivalent of a large bucket of water, which nearly knocked him off his feet. 

"FUCK!" He yelled. 

The wind suddenly seemed like a hurricane. Lashing rain stung his bare fingers.  
All out of nowhere. 

It was forcing the yacht to the left, blowing it off course, into what looked like a narrow channel between two islands. 

Pushing his hood down, Malcolm rubbed both hands over his forehead, forcing the sea water out of his eyes, for a second or two he was almost blinded.  
The voice reached him, almost as if out of a tunnel. 

"MALCOLM! GRAB THE TILLER! TAKE US HARD TO STARBUD.......QUICK!" 

Barely able to hear clearly over not only the howl of the wind, but another, ominous thundering noise, which now seemed to filter into his subconscious. 

It was the sound of a torrent of churning, seething water.

And they were headed straight for it.....


	5. The Tempest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Jamie are in big trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Just a word about the Pudgy. It's a fairly standard life craft for a vessel the size of Rainbow. It is practically unsinkable, self bailing, tough as nails. Inside the side panels it stows a telescopic mast and sail, tiller and oars. Also it has canopies which can be fixed around the sides like a life raft. It's a fucking life saver!  
> If you want to see what one looks like....here's a link....
> 
> http://www.portlandpudgy.com/portland-pudgy-lifeboat-v-inflatable-life-raft/lifeboat-faqs/

CHAPTER FIVE.  
THE TEMPEST. 

Malcolm barely had time to really register what was happening. 

A wall of water seemed to be heading straight for them. His eyes widened in horror when he saw the height of it, well over ten feet.  
If that broke across the yacht they would be swamped. 

A combination of lashing rain and stinging spray assaulted him from all sides. 

Malcolm knew instinctively that they were in big trouble. 

Clambering up onto the cabin roof, he reached Jamie's side. 

"What the fuck do we do?" He yelled at the top of his voice. 

"I'm gonna launch the Pudgy." Came the reply. "You'll have to help me." 

Seeing the eyebrows furrow in confusion, his friend continued. 

"The dinghy....it's a life raft too, and it's fucking unsinkable.....Malcolm help me......hurry....."

Freezing fingers gripped the upturned hull of the small life craft which was lashed to the foredeck.

Around eight feet long it was made of the toughest, lightweight, extremely buoyant polypropylene material. Designed to be used as a tender, to and from shore, or as a small sailing dinghy, since it contained oars, a telescopic mast and sail, all stowed into its side panels, it also doubled as a life raft for up to four persons, with weather resistant canopies which could be erected around it, to keep any potential survivors from the worst of the elements. 

Together the two men struggled against the buffeting wind and the swell to free it, turn it over, drag it to the edge of the side railing and launch it overboard, tethered to the main vessel by a length of stout blue cord.

"Get below and grab as much stuff as you can....." Jamie screamed. "Don't think Malc, just fucking do it, if that wave hits us broadside we're gonners......"

For only a split second Malcolm's eyes levelled with the curl of the giant boomer coming towards them. It was rolling in at a rate of knots.  
Looking to him like a huge cresting barrel of the kind surfers love so much, but to his eyes it was filled with menace and danger.  
Without another thought he was clambering back along the cabin top on his backside, slipping and slithering in the wet, soaked to the skin, but oblivious, as he reached the galley steps, half falling, half scrabbling down them. 

Water was sloshing around his feet and ankles. Brown, murky water, rainbowed with oil. 

He began grabbing things at random, stuffing them into the waterproof duffle style kit bags.  
Anything he considered that might be useful.  
From his pocket he took his iPhone and threw it in with some foodstuffs, Jamie’s whiskey flask, tins, blankets, a torch, a penknife, the little primus, waterproofs and spare clothes, first aid kit, anything that came to his hand. Above his head affixed to the hull was a flare gun, which he snatched down almost as an afterthought. 

As his head emerged from the hatchway, staggering under the weight of his prizes, he was heavily doused by yet another colossal wash. Halting him for a moment in his tracks. Pouring down between his knees and flowing into the galley behind him. 

The vessel was listing heavily to starboard, the railing on that side only six inches from the sea. Making it difficult to stay upright. 

Hurling the stuff into the raft, he turned to look for his friend.......

Jamie wasn't there. 

Panic seized him. 

"JAMIE!! JAMIE!!" 

Calling frantically, his head turning this way and that. 

He didn't know it, but the wave that had so thoroughly smothered him as he reached the stern from below, had also swept Jamie overboard. 

Icy fingers gripping the side, he peered over, frantically searching the swirling crests of the heaving water in an effort to spot him. 

His friend had completely vanished. 

"FUCK!!! FUCK!! JAMIE!!!" Malcolm's voice was lost in the scream of the wind, howling through the narrow gap between the islands, as the freak weather system whirled itself into full force. 

It was no use. 

Jamie was gone. 

Malcolm was alone. 

He had no clue what to do. 

Survival instinct took over. 

In another moment the vast wall of water hit. It was like an explosion of dynamite roaring over his head. Crashing down. Throwing everything up into the air then dropping it down again. 

Malcolm was in the water. 

Sheer terror enveloped him as he was sucked under into the dark depths, the muffled sounds ceased above him, nothing but the pop and fizz of bubbles, the rush of the sea in his ears.  
Every moment of panic which he'd ever experienced when he had his first swimming lesson with Sam resurfaced. 

He was going to drown. 

His worst fear. His nightmare. 

The shock of the bone numbing cold stole the breath from him. Which was lucky, because he sucked in a lungful of air just before the surface closed over his head. 

His chest screamed for mercy, as he was pulled down by the riptide. 

Then something snapped. 

He was not going to die here. He was a father, a husband. He would see his wife and kids again. 

Sam's face seem to float into his sphere of vision, although his eyes were shut tight. 

In his alarm he'd forgotten he was wearing a life jacket, which after a few seconds of exposure, inflated around his body. 

The combination of its buoyancy and his own 'flight or fight' adrenaline kicking in, made him strike out for the surface.  
Eyes open against the salty sting, he looked up and could see the restless water moving above him. 

Popping to the top like a cork. 

He broke once more into the light of day with a protracted gasp. 

Bobbing about amid the seething maelstrom. 

No idea where he was. 

Right next to him, he glimpsed the hull of the Rainbow, and struck out towards it. 

It was going down.....fast. 

Suddenly in his fuddled brain, it occurred to him that the large and small craft were tethered together.  
Reaching the raft, using his last ounce of strength he hauled himself aboard.  
Fumbling for the penknife in his pocket he slashed frantically at the rope joining the two with numbed hands, as the keel began to slip beneath the boiling sea. 

Freed, the little boat was forced away as the suction took the yacht under. In seconds there was nothing above the waves visible. It was as if the boat had never been there. 

Malcolm lay inert inside the bow of the dinghy like a dead walrus. Tossed about like flotsam on the crests of each new flume. 

Frozen to the marrow. 

Frightened. 

Alone. 

His breath ragged as tears came. 

"Jamie. Jamie." He sobbed. 

He was so cold that he no longer had any feeling in his hands, legs or feet, but he knew that lying here like this was not an option.  
Somehow he had to try to make it to the shore. 

The channel of the Corryvreckan was narrow, no more than half a mile wide, Jura on one side, the uninhabited island of Scarba on the other.  
Malcolm knew nothing of this. 

All he knew was that he could see, through the thick mist of driving rain, blessed land. 

Battered by both wind and surf, the little craft vaulted up and down like a cart on a rollercoaster, threatening to tip over any second, but somehow righting itself again. It was like being in a floating bath tub. 

To his relief Malcolm seemed to be being funnelled inexorably towards the land. No choice in the matter whatever. 

As he moved closer the waves seemed to intensify in their force, breakers sweeping along, curling over, breaking, buffeting and smashing against his little safety craft. 

Huge rocks punctuated the sea here, the swell threatening to dash him against them. He had to just trust that there was some strand or beach where he could make landfall, and that the current would be kind to him. 

Although Malcolm had no knowledge of how this landing should be accomplished nor even knew his dinghy possessed the wherewithal to steer. 

Malcolm Tucker, brought up a Catholic, now a confirmed atheist, prayed to The Almighty for deliverance. 

Caught sideways with each new onslaught, spun around in circles, the shoreline grew ever nearer. The boomers sucking down the shingle from below him with each churning motion, then shooting him forwards suddenly, as if he were tumbling inside a washing machine, until he felt a crunch of the hull beneath him. 

Before he could stagger to his feet and jump for it, the next wave broke, tossing him and all the belongings out, depositing them unceremoniously onto the foreshore.  
The little boat reared up and went over the top him, smacking his head as it did so. 

Blackness enveloped him and he knew no more.


	6. Indoor Camping.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Ellie and the children are enjoying a day by the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on what Sam, Ellie and the kids are up to whilst the men are sailing.

CHAPTER SIX.  
INDOOR CAMPING.

Sam and Ellie had taken the children down to a small sheltered cove near their cottage. 

It was a fine morning and the kids were excited. 

The sun had a little heat here, not too many midges.  
Benefitting from the Gulf Stream, Oban was blessed with a relatively mild climate for its location. Although the weather could be very unpredictable hour on hour, let alone day by day.  
It boasted a wealth of marine and bird life, but was also a great place for four active children who liked the outdoors. 

Dressed in fleeces, jeans and wellies, they all toted little fishing nets on a bamboo pole, colourful plastic buckets and spades. 

Rock pooling. 

Low tide.

Sam was astonished at how engaged they all were. 

Little shrimps and crustaceans, tiny crabs, mussels and silver fishes darted about amongst the sea-weed.  
They found 'mermaids purses' and different types of shells, all carefully collected in their plastic pails.  
Each new find shown and shared amongst them with glee. 

Whilst above them the sun shone and the sky was the clearest blue. 

Ellie spread an old blanket onto the soft turf, back aways from the water.  
Returning from the car, Sam knelt down, producing flasks, sandwiches, crisps and fruit from a cool bag. 

"KIDS!! LUNCH!!" She called, straightening up. 

Here they came at the run.  
The hungry hunters.  
Laughing and calling to each other as they came. Sam had never seen them look so happy. The three Tucker children saw Jess as one of them, she was just another sister.  
It made both mother's hearts glad. 

"Look at them. They love it here!" Ellie smiled, wiping the sand and mud from her daughter's fingers, so she could sit down and eat. 

"It is pretty perfect isn't it?" Her friend agreed. "Safe too, and so peaceful." 

"It's beautiful. They can run free, no traffic to worry about, no nasty strangers, just a fantastic spot."

Together, as the gathering breeze whipped their hair, they ate their picnic. Then shared cups of hot chocolate.  
The children falling on the food like a pack of ravenous wolves, swallowing down the last mouthful then running off to play again.  
Boys to kick a football, girls to build a fairy house in the bole of a gnarled old tree. 

Sam in no way encouraged 'gender appropriateness' in her children. 

If the girls wanted to play soldiers, then that was fine with her, or doctors or anything else traditionally male dominated.  
Similarly, if the boys wanted to make up their faces or wear her jewellery she didn't care one jot. 

Malcolm, who was essentially a different generation, had no such qualms either as regards what he considered 'manly' or 'womanly' or versions thereof.  
He made no distinctions and harboured no prejudice.  
The fact that her kids seemed to graduate towards certain things of their own accord, was not of their parents doing.  
Grace was a princess, and by extension so was Jess. She liked dolls and fairies, dressing up and such like, although she loved science and space too.  
Jamie and Robbie loved football, or charging around generally. Jamie, the most boisterous and adventurous, was into sci-fi. Robbie, the middle child was far quieter and more sensitive than his older brother and was more into books, building things from Lego, and his Brio railway. 

Kids! Sam mused, as she watched them play. Each finding their own niche in the world. 

oOo

 

The weather began to deteriorate after lunch. 

A rapid decline. 

Packing up their belongings the little family headed off back to the cottage. 

Cosy and warm, with a fire lit, Sam stood at the window peering out at the lashing rain. 

"I hope they're okay out there." She spoke aloud to the room. 

Ellie came in behind her. 

"It's just a weather front passing over, they'll be alright." She replied, seemingly unconcerned.

As the day began to fade, the wind seemed to pick up. 

The children's room had four bunk beds. 

To take her mind off her husband, out at sea.....somewhere.....Sam organised them into a game. 

Ellie, watching her friend, was discovering just what a brilliant mother Sam was, and why her offspring had such powerful imaginations, and were so clever.  
Of course she knew Malcolm was as sharp as a tack, but she hadn't really realised quite how clever his wife was too. 

A fairly narrow room, the bunks were situated down each side of the wall, with a walkway in between.  
Sam placed poles across from one bunk to the other, laying blankets over them to form a canopy.

Playing 'indoor camping'. 

Inside their 'tent' the kids were terribly excited, in their pyjamas......in sleeping bags. 

In the process of devouring a 'midnight feast'.  
A Tilly lantern was suspended from the ridge pole, casting an eerie light, silhouetting their forms from the outside. 

It had been a long day. 

Leaving them to play happily, the women sat down to some food and a restorative cup of tea. 

Ellie McDonald put her feet up gratefully, rubbing a hand across her distended belly with a sigh. 

"Oh, but it's good to sit down!" She puffed. 

As if on cue, grizzling could be heard. 

"I'll go." She groaned, rolling her eyes, making to rise. 

"No, that's Robbie......I'll sort it." 

Sam went into the bedroom. 

"What's going on?" She demanded. 

Robbie was in tears, Jamie looking guilty. Grace and Jess looking at him as if he were a convicted criminal. 

"Mummy, Robbie's frightened, Ja......" Her daughter began. 

Just her mother's look silenced her instantly. 

Bending, Sam gathered up her weeping son, who clung to her, jamming his thumb into his mouth.

"Jamie turned the light off.....there was a wee ghosty in the dark......" He wept, his accent sounding spookily like Malcolm's.

Sam turned to her eldest with a frown, her eyebrows raised, inviting an explanation. 

"It was just a bit of fun......" Jamie began. "But he's being a wuss......."

"Jamie.....come here to me......." Hanging his head, the child crawled out of the makeshift tent and stood waiting to be admonished.  
"Just because you're not frightened, but your brother is, doesn't make him a wuss. You are both different. Robbie is younger than you........things you think are funny, he doesn't. Things you might like, he might not. Doing something when you know it's scaring or upsetting him is unkind. Now please say you're sorry, and I think you should all settle down to sleep.....you're tired and it's been a long day, what with being up so early to see Daddy off. Come on now......" 

Hugging his distraught but sleepy brother, Jamie looked suitably contrite. 

"Sorry Rob. I never meant it." 

"Into bed now, all of you. Tomorrow we'll go down to the harbour to see Daddy and Uncle Jamie come in......you don't want to sleep in and miss that do you?" 

"No mummy!" They chorused. 

"I can't wait to see Daddy." Grace whispered, as she was kissed goodnight. "Doesn't Jess get a kiss too?" 

"Of course she does! Night night Jess!" 

"They okay?" Ellie said with a yawn, as Sam returned to the lounge. 

"They're fine. All that fresh air has knackered them out. Roll on tomorrow." Her friend replied, as she gave a worried glance out of the window at the lashing rain and howling wind.


	7. Robinson Crusoe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm wakes up.......

CHAPTER SEVEN.  
ROBINSON CRUSOE. 

Malcolm opened his eyes. 

For a moment he thought he was in bed at home, before reality hit.

His face was pressed against the sand and pebbles of a stony beach. The tide now receded, leaving him high and dry.  
Wind and rain still beat down upon him. 

Disorientated and confused, he sat up painfully. Feeling his throbbing head.

Salt water had washed and sterilised the wound, crusty and sore now where the blood had dried. 

It was not yet dark, but he couldn't remember what day it was, when or how he'd got here, how many hours had passed. 

What was he doing here? 

Where was everybody?

Soaked to the skin, he was so cold that his whole body shook with it. His brain seemed to be functioning in slow motion. Everything was a terrible effort, even thinking.  
Looking down at himself he realised he was missing a shoe. His clothes were heavy and sodden.  
Coated with a layer of sand.  
Holding out his hands, palms up, he stared down at them, uncomprehending. They were torn and raw. 

Raising his head, he looked to the left and the right. 

Close by, washed onto the shore, were the duffle bags and belongings he'd thrown into the little life raft before the yacht went down. 

The craft itself was lying keel uppermost, further up the strand, where it had been deposited by the high tide. 

Malcolm stared about him. Across to the horizon, where more land rose up out of the sea. The high hills that were called the Paps of Jura, on the opposite shore.  
He was in a small cove inlet, surrounded by rocks. Not a proper landing site with a jetty or a pier, or any other sign of human occupation that he could see. 

He shook his head, passing a hand in front of his eyes, as his vision swam and the view shimmered and darkened before him, before clearing again. Like a car windscreen after the wipers had passed over. 

It looked to be late afternoon or early evening.  
This late in May the sky stayed light for a good while this far north. Away to the west, in spite of the rain clouds, there was a blueish light, a gloaming.  
No moon or stars yet visible, although, he reasoned in his muddled head, that could be because of the cloud cover. 

Lifting his arm to check, he looked at his watch, but the dial was smashed. Forever frozen at ten past three. 

There was not a twinkle of a street lamp or house lights from any dwelling anywhere that he could see. No car headlights on a road somewhere. Nor the comforting flash of a lighthouse. 

Nothing. 

"Where in fucks name am I?" He shouted to the world in general. 

Only the roar of the wind and the distant swell of the sea answered him. 

Gradually his fuddled mind seemed to come into focus. 

A thought occurred to him, wasn't he with someone? 

_'Jamie.'_

Suddenly, like a tornado hitting his sternum, it all rushed back. 

The boat. The storm. Jamie. 

Everything. 

With startling clarity. 

Finding his friend gone. Going overboard. The rush of the seawater in his ears. 

He could still taste it. Dry cracked lips. What he wouldn't give for a drink of clear cool water. 

He wept. 

Head in his hands. 

"Fuck! Fuck!" 

Kneeling up, he tried to stand. But his legs were like jelly. 

"SAM!!!" He cried. "SAM!! WHERE ARE YOU? HELP ME!!!" 

Malcolm was unaware of the immediate danger he was in.  
His body going into shut down.  
Exposure to extreme cold. Wet. Dehydrated. Confused. 

He was hallucinating, but convinced he could see her. Walking towards him.  
Dream state or not, it had the desired effect.  
The love he bore for this woman was stronger than anything the elements could throw at him, more real to him than this nightmare he was in the centre of.  
She was his wife. His world. She was also his saviour. 

"SAM!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. 

From somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind came a single word. 

_'Hypothermia.'_

Reaching his side, the spectre bent and whispered into his ear. 

_"You're terribly cold Malcolm. You need to get warm, or you'll die. Do something. Do it now!"_

Whatever it was it seemed to do the trick. 

Scrambling to his feet Malcolm salvaged the waterproof bags, pulling them out of the reach of the tide. Ferreting inside he found his phone, in its plastic Jiffy bag.  
Tried it.  
Nothing.  
No signal, dead. 

“FUCK!” He cursed. 

Pulling out trousers, T shirt, a dry fleece and a spare lightweight waterproof. Stripping off his life vest and soaked top clothes, he put on the dry ones, zipping the new jacket with trembling fingers. Trousers and pants followed, without unfastening the waistband. No socks, and he abandoned his one remaining shoe.  
He rolled the wet things, slinging them under the upturned dinghy. 

Noticing the beach around him was littered with driftwood. 

He could use the charts he'd thrown into the bag, there were fire-lighters and matches in the emergency pack. 

Set a fire going.

 _Yes! Yes Malcolm.....you can do this.....come on!_

_You have to live._

_Do it. Do it now!_

Still shivering uncontrollably, Malcolm set to gathering an armful of jetsam, carrying it back to the life raft and flinging it down.  
Here, he was under the overhang of the cliff, some six feet above him, providing a dry patch, and much needed shelter from the wind and driving rain.  
His mind now bent on hot food. The tins in the bag. 

Then he remembered the large Thermos flask of tea Sam had given him before they left.....it was there all the time when he'd been poncing about in the galley with that fucking Primus stove!

His heart leapt. 

Searching the duffles, he found it, unbroken.  
Hands shaking as he unscrewed the lid, pouring some into the plastic cup and swallowing it. 

Blessed relief! 

He could feel it going all the way down. 

It rekindled his belief, if little else. 

_"Get your arse in gear Tucker! Get that fucking fire going!"_

A new determination. 

Straying a little further in search of the driest pieces of wood, he spotted something ahead of him. 

Something he'd not noticed before. 

It looked like a black shape. 

A dead seal carcass perhaps.......

Narrowing his eyes he looked again, but his vision was still blurring from time to time from his head wound, making it momentarily hard to see clearly. 

Staggering slightly, he moved closer. 

The mist before his eyes cleared, coming into focus, a slow dawning......

"HOLY FUCK! JAMIE!" 

Malcolm started to run. 

Stumbling along, as his legs felt so heavy he could hardly lift them. 

Reaching the side of the motionless bundle, he clasped onto the life jacket straps, turning the body over. 

His friend was dead. 

Malcolm was sobbing now. 

"Jamie! Jamie! Oh fuck! FUCK! FUCK!" 

Turning his face upwards into the driving rain he yelled his lungs out, into the full force of the gale.


	8. The Longest Night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is woken from a disturbed sleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT.  
THE LONGEST NIGHT. 

_Wednesday Night......_

Sam tossed and turned in the large double bed alone. 

Sleep would not come, and when it did, her dreams were bad. 

She was running, as fast as she could, her breathing laboured, chest hurting, heart pumping.  
Trying to reach something she wasn't sure of, but knew she desperately needed to get to.

Malcolm's voice came out of the darkness, his accent, his tone. Calling her name in a way she'd only ever heard him call her when he was at his very lowest ebb.  
When he clung to her in moments of despair. 

_"SAM! SAM! WHERE ARE YOU? HELP ME!"_

Waking with a start, she sat bolt upright, feeling the bed beside her, expecting her husband to be there, snoring gently, or turning over sleepily to ask her what was wrong.  
It took a minute or two to realise where she was.  
Her forehead was clammy, yet she shivered.  
Just as she was about to rise and fetch herself a comforting drink, the door was pushed back slowly and a little figure stood silhouetted in the landing light. 

A small girl in her nightie, with a brown bear under her arm. Her curls mussed from sleep. Rubbing her eyes distractedly. 

Grace. Like a little angel. 

"Mummy?" She whispered softly. 

"I'm here sweetheart. What is it?" Holding out her arms, the skinny body crawled under the covers beside her.  
This was most unlike her daughter. Daddy's girl through and through.  
The calm, assured one. Confident. Sensible way beyond her years. 

"I had a nasty dream Mummy. It scared me." Came the reedy voice. 

"Oh darling, come here and let me give you a cuddle."  
Drawing the small torso towards her, Sam snuggled the youngster into her side. 

"What was your dream? Can you tell me?" She asked gently. 

"It was Daddy......he was crying......Mummy I'm so frightened......" 

Sam gave a sharp intake of breath. Stifling the outburst of a sob, which she did not want her daughter to hear. 

"I've never seen Daddy cry like that before.....it was horrible......" 

The little one was weeping quietly, not hysterically, but it was still heartrendingly painful. 

"It's alright sweetie. Daddy will be safe, we'll see him tomorrow. You'll see." 

Curled together, Grace cried herself out.  
The two woke in the morning still locked in each other's embrace. 

oOo

Jamie McDonald knew his number was up. 

The wave which washed over him, catapulting him into the briny, pivoted his entire body weight on his left arm, dislocating his shoulder, snapping his humerus, as he'd been clinging tight to the railing for all he was worth in an effort to prevent himself being swept away. 

Into the cold, heaving water. 

The current took him almost immediately, there was nothing he could do. 

Drifting further and further from the hull, which he could still see every so often, when the swell allowed.  
Listing to one side, before it disappeared altogether. 

Well, that was that.

Unable to move, he bobbed there helplessly, unaware that he was being driven hard towards the shore.  
He tried kicking his legs, but the pain in his shoulder and side was so great that every movement was agony. 

So, he would die here. 

Go under alongside the ashes of his father. Which he'd never even managed to scatter.  
Somehow he couldn't even weep. No tears would come. 

Sleep. 

He would just fall sleep and not wake up. 

It was fitting somehow.  
Right.

He was not afraid.

He was resigned. 

Well, if he had to go, it seemed like a pretty good way. 

Idly, he wondered if his wife would ever know what had happened to him.  
What his unborn bairn, that he would now never see, would look like. How his daughter would grow up and only vaguely remember her daddy.  
His best friend was lost too.  
And it was his fault.  
Why had he persuaded Malcolm to come on this fucking trip?  
Now his beautiful weans and his lovely Sam would be without him. 

The guilt and sorrow seemed to wash away with every wave that broke over him. 

Pointless.

No one could have predicted this outcome.

Felt like hours had passed, yet it was not much more than fifteen minutes. 

Hitting the shore had been the most exquisitely painful moment of all.  
Tossed over and over in the breakers, he screamed in agony each time his shoulder crunched beneath him, until finally he lost consciousness. 

All around him went dark. 

oOo

The moment that Malcolm turned over the lifeless body of his friend was something that would stay with him for the rest of his life. 

Pallor of skin. Wrinkled slightly from being in the sea water. Pinched and drawn from exposure.  
Lips blue.

Eyes wide open but clear as if witnessing his own last moments. 

The tousled brown curls were matted with sand and seaweed. 

"Oh God!" Malcolm whispered. "Oh God!" 

He clung to his best friend. Holding him close. Rocking. 

His cheek resting on the top of the damp head. 

"Oh God." He repeated. "Not like this.......please......" 

From within his embrace came a sudden convulsive movement and a cough. 

A long gasp of air, sucked in, a wrenching choke and a gurgle. 

Malcolm almost dropped him with the shock. 

"FUCK!" He cried. "JAMIE!" 

Sea water was spewing from his friend's mouth, a paroxysm of spluttering accompanied by groans of pain. 

Beyond speech. 

Just a sickening rattle from the throat.

Malcolm was no paramedic but he immediately went into first aid mode.  
Turning Jamie onto his stomach he began to push upwards against his shoulder blades, forcing the water from his lungs.  
However, with each pumping motion his friend gave a fresh cry of pain. 

He was in a bad way. Any fool could see that. 

What the fuck to do? 

Malcolm Tucker wasted no time in thought. His brain was barely functioning by now anyway.  
On autopilot.

With no strength to carry him, he began to drag his comrade down the beach towards where the life raft was left, and where there was shelter. 

It took a while to accomplish this feat.  
Arms under Jamie's armpits, hands clasped across his chest, hauling backwards. Bare feet crippled by the stones.  
Pulling a wet, heavy, unresponsive body was like dragging a huge sack of potatoes. 

"Leave me. It's over Malc. Just leave me!" Jamie murmured. "I'm done for." 

_"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU CUNT!"_ Was the loud and vicious response. 

Malcolm didn't know it, but focussing on his friend and not himself was probably keeping him alive. Although it was calling on bodily resources he really didn't have. 

There was no choice. 

It had to be done. The alternative was unthinkable. 

Finally reaching the cliff, he sat back for a moment to rest, sweating, in spite of his low core temperature, breathing raggedly. Exhausted by the effort. 

He must get warm. 

_THEY_ must get warm. 

Raising himself for one last push.  
Malcolm hauled onto his knees one final time. He was shivering so much now that his teeth were chattering.

With great difficulty, he began stripping his limp friend's sodden clothes from his body and replacing them with dry ones.  
Swearing at him, insulting him the entire time.......not to be unkind to Jamie, but to spur himself on.

"Get your fucking leg out for fucks sake. You're like a sack of shit."

"Don't fucking help will you? TWAT! Just lie there like the Queen of cunting Sheba! I'll fan you in a minute, feed you grapes, you prick." 

"Jesus! It's like undressing fat Pat after she's had ten pints of lager and a fucking lamb bhuna....and I only know _that_ because someone told me....in case you're thinking anything to the contrary....I know the way your sewer mind works....the same person also told me she's got a vadge as wide as the Dartford tunnel....in case you're interested..... _which you're fucking not!_ " 

"Christ, you're so bloody cold, Captain fucking Birdseye, like fishfingers, straight from the freezer.....no more kids for you.....your cock has shrivelled to the size of a sodding cocktail sausage, you'll be lucky if you can even piss in a straight line from here on, let alone fuck!" 

It was on removing the life vest and shirt that he discovered the source of Jamie's pain. 

His left shoulder stuck out at a crazy angle. The skin around it a livid purple. Pretty sure the arm was broken too.  
His stream of invective died on his lips.

"Oh sweet Jesus!" Malcolm clamped a hand over his mouth.

No time.

Three deep breaths. 

"Right!" He hissed, steeling himself. "Okay, mate! This is gonna hurt like fuck......." 

Placing his knee against the blade bone, he pushed downwards sharply. 

Jamie gave a scream of agony as the shoulder popped back, and promptly passed out again. 

Malcolm strapped the arm to his chest firmly, folded neatly across his body with a cotton sling from the first aid kit.  
This wasn't easy either, like bandaging a rag doll. 

"For fucks sake! You can't even die without giving someone else trouble, can you? You CUNT! Sit forwards! Jesus Christ! You're such a useless streak of piss! You're about as much good as a bag of jammy fucking doughnuts to a diabetic." 

He listened to the ragged breathing...

"Don't you fucking die on me now you pox ridden dried up baw bag, or I'll resuscitate you and then fucking kill you myself......" 

Answer came there none. 

oOo

Luckily it didn't take long to ignite the tinder dry wood he'd found.  
Even in the wet the wood was so desiccated by the elements, that it caught quickly, helped along with fire lighters and a couple of the charts Malcolm had shoved into the duffle bag.  
Soon, under the protective lea of the cliff, a small blaze was burning.  
Malcolm dragged his inert friend next to it. Close as he could. Wrapped in a foil blanket from the emergency pack, he resembled an oven ready chicken, with a real blanket over the top for good measure.

"All you need now is sausage meat stuffed up your arse......sage and fucking onion....." Malcolm snarled. 

Wrapping himself in the same way, Malcolm sat down with his back against the cliff. Pulling his friend over his lap, hugging him as close to his own body as was humanly possible.  
Jamie groaned again and opened his eyes.  
From the duffle bag he took a couple of energy bars, which was all he could be bothered with, or had strength to manage, and the rest of the flask of hot tea. 

"Here....get this down your neck, it's fuel, it'll help warm you....." His friend tried to sit up to eat, sipping the tea as Malcolm held the cup for him. "Careful.....it's hot....don't spill it, its fucking precious. There's a couple of paracetamol from the First Aid kit too, they'll not help much but it's better than nothing..."

"Thanks Malcy....." The voice was strained and desperately tired.  
No one but Jamie had ever called Malcolm, _'Malcy'_ it was a childhood term of endearment. One for their ears only. Sounding now, very like that young boy, the same one that Malcolm often rescued from being bullied in the playground so many years ago. 

In hunting for the sustenance Malcolm also discovered the flare gun. 

It contained a cartridge and a spare. 

Having finished the morsel and the hot beverage, Jamie relaxed back into his friend's warmth. 

"Should I let one of these off?" He asked, but it was no good, his exhausted companion had slid down into a sort of fitful sleep. 

Malcolm had to decide for himself, so he held the gun in the air at arms length. 

Released the safety trigger, firing the cartridge out into the void. 

There was a pop and a fizz. A bright red flare shot into the dark lowering sky, high above his head into the gloom.  
He watched it hover there for a few moments before slowly fizzling and dying, falling gradually towards the sea and flickering out. 

Taking out his phone, he tried it again. 

Still nothing. Not even the GPS signal was working. 

Utterly useless. 

So he switched it off to preserve the battery. 

Nothing more he could do. 

His own exhaustion caught up with him. 

Holding his inert friend in a clinging embrace, Malcolm closed his eyes, in spite of his efforts to stay awake, his idea being not to let the fire go out. 

For a while he would come to after a short doze, throw more fuel onto the flames, before dozing off again. 

The night was now as black as pitch.  
Wild and woolly. 

But the fire was at least, doing its work, it slowly warmed them. 

Against all the odds they were both alive. 

Malcolm had no more to give. His body demanded rest. Not capable of conscious thought now. 

Sleep. 

He was no longer in a position to argue.


	9. Morning Has Broken.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, the marooned pair wake up.....it doesn't go well.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda think that Malcolm and Jamie would end up arguing.....in spite of their predicament!
> 
> My friend @misswinterseat found a great song which is the perfect accompaniment to this story. It's called 'Brothers' by Kodaline. Give it a listen, it's fucking wonderful!!
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=m6TXPNybrmk
> 
> For those who've not heard of it 'Camp' coffee is famous in the UK and has been around for over a century. My father always kept it on the boat. It comes in a distinctive glass bottle. There's no actual coffee in it at all, as far as I know, it's chicory essence, but it has an almost eternal shelf life!!!
> 
> https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=camp+coffee&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&hl=en-gb&client=safari#imgrc=rJhCKRDhUReuRM:

CHAPTER NINE.  
MORNING HAS BROKEN.

_Thursday morning......_

Jamie opened his eyes on the new day. 

The sky away to the east was just beginning to change colour. 

A wall of pain hit him. 

Beside him crackled a bright bonfire. 

He was huddled close to Malcolm, who had fallen forwards over him as he slept.  
The worn and tired face of his friend peppered with silver stubble. 

The rain had ceased for now but the clouds were angry and boiling, as was the sea. Wind howling unrelenting at gale force. 

Rescue seemed a dim prospect, he reasoned, but his mind refused to dwell on it.  
No one in their right mind would launch a boat in this. 

His whole left side was on fire, a deep protracted pain which burned him constantly. 

Cold and hungry but unable to help himself. 

He surrendered with a groan, and closed his eyes again. 

oOo

Waking again a few hours later, he could smell coffee. 

Sure of it. 

It was raining hard again. 

Now he was lying on one of the waterproof orange canopies from the life raft.  
How had he moved?  
Wrapped tightly in blankets and foil, right next to the blaze. 

Beneath the shelter provided by the overhang, out of the driving downpour. The small dinghy had been moved onto its side to provide a windbreak. 

"I'll have a skinny macchiato with a shot of hazelnut syrup." 

He spoke to the empty air. 

A movement beside him. 

Malcolm. 

"The fuck you will! Here mate, sit up and drink this." 

An arm was placed around his neck, pulling him forwards slightly. Making him wince with pain. 

Scolding hot, Camp chicory coffee with lots of sugar. But it was possibly the best thing he'd ever tasted. Poured from a tin camping pan, pushed into the embers below the flames. 

"Where's yours?" He whispered through gritted teeth. 

"I've had mine. There's soup here too. You need to eat it, to warm you......let me help you." 

The puckered lips came forwards as an old spoon was held to them, carefully sucking the chunky liquid on board. 

"Fuck, mate! That's good." He whispered. 

"Don't know where the fuck we are.....but I've had a little scout round......." His friend replied, pushing back his protective hood to reveal his plastered silver hair, which promptly stood up at crazy angles.  
".......there's an old tumbledown bothy cottage or something over there aways......" He waved an arm vaguely behind him. "......maybe if you can manage to walk, we'll shift there......it's got a slate roof, it'll be more sheltered......warmer......" 

"Yeah. Maybe.....I'll try to make it.......fuck.....Malc......I thought you were a gonner......thought I was too....." 

"Yeah, well, you're not! Nor am I......so shut the fuck up about it.....we'll be okay here for a bit, till help comes......someone'll be looking for us.....meanwhile we've got a few supplies, we'll survive."

"Help me to sit......will you Malc? So I can see. My arm hurts like fuck......" 

"I think it's broken, I'll have to give it a proper look later.....see if we can get it more comfortable....." 

Sitting upright now, Jamie leaned against the cliff rock behind him. Holding his arm at the elbow with the other hand. Eyes scanning the view, almost obliterated as it was by the foul weather. 

"Looks like Jura over there." He nodded towards the sea in front of him. "This must be Scarba....there's a lodge house at the other end of the island, used from time to time for shooting parties only. No one lives here permanently. There's a small jetty there. I think there are red deer though....." 

"So basically the arse end of nowhere....." Malcolm observed. "Fucking typical! Well, I hope it doesn't take long for them to find us......" 

"Mate.....this fucking weather will keep them away......not even a lifeboat can launch in this. We're marooned until it blows itself out. We might as well accept it. Fucking hell.....the girls aren't gonna know what's happened......they're gonna think we've carked it.......shit......they'll be worried sick...."

"I wanna know where it all came from......it's like everything changed in less than half an hour, was it even forecast?"

"Course it wasn't! Do you think I'd have set sail if it was? I'm not totally bonkers you know....."

Jamie begin to struggle to stand. 

"Hang on a minute, let me help you......" Malcolm tried to take his good arm. 

"Fuck off! I can manage.......I can't believe you even thought I'd purposely put you in danger.....I tell you it's a freak weather system.....they happen sometimes.....no one could possibly have known!" 

"Jamie, don't be a cunt......I wasn't saying that......there's no need to fly off the handle....." 

Standing now, clutching himself tightly, his friend staggered forwards. 

"You got the radio in your magic bag of tricks there? Let's get it out, see if we can get it working. If we can hail the Coastguard at least we can tell someone we're okay......" 

"Radio?" Malcolm furrowed a quizzical brow. 

"Yeah.....the radio......don't tell me you didn't bring it......??"

Jamie's eyes suddenly blazed angrily. 

"I couldn't bring it.....it's fixed into the cabin......." 

" _WHAT?_ You fucking stupid twat! You can release it from the bloody bracket! It's battery operated......it could save our lives......" 

Malcolm was suddenly furious.  
His fury boiled over, spilling out, he yelled over the roar of the wind. 

"WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT? We wouldn't have _ANYTHING_ if it hadn't been for me! I grabbed everything I could in the few seconds I had!" 

His long index finger poked into his friend's chest menacingly, as they stood face to face, foreheads almost touching.

 _"YOU!!!"_ He cried. "YOU would be lying on the fucking beach up there for a start....." He threw a hand out to the side pointing down the coastline in emphasis.  
"A fucking shrivelled corpse! So DON'T. YOU. TALK. TO. ME. ABOUT. STUPID! Christ! I could fucking pop you one, you ungrateful F star star CUNT!" 

"COME ON THEN! Do it! IF YOU'RE HALF A MAN........." Jamie planted his feet firmly. "Brings everything with you but the one thing we need! Arsehole! I can still deck you even with only one arm....."

"You fucking bastard! I'll lay you out.....so help me......" Malcolm raised his fist. 

For a moment it was as if he would bring that fist back and smack his friend squarely in the mouth.  
Then, just as quickly as his anger had risen, it vanished, leaving the exhausted, wet, cold and hungry man in its place. 

Tears suddenly stung his eyes. 

"You know what?" He hissed. "You're not even fucking worth it, you piece of shit....." 

He turned away, hobbling slightly on his poor bare feet, furiously began gathering up the belongings he'd rescued. 

".......I'm going to move to the bothy......light a fire there......get out of this _FUCKING_ rain and this _FUCKING_ wind. _YOU_ can do what you damn well like!" 

Jamie McDonald was about to yell "COWARD!" But thought better of it. 

He stood, still holding onto himself painfully, looking on as Malcolm clenched his jaw tight.  
The lump on his head where the boat hit him, looking livid, the bruising clear to see now, stuffing their precious possessions into the bags angrily, stowing unwanted things beneath the life raft, which he'd now turned upside down.  
Once done, he spun round again, eyes blazing, to find his friend hadn't moved a muscle. 

"......and when you get your head out from up your own arse.....you might pause to reflect......that you might not have a fucking radio.....but you're ALIVE......and with luck you might just get to see that unborn bairn of yours........now get out of my fucking way!" 

Hauling one bag onto his shoulder and dragging another, limping, Malcolm brushed passed his rooted comrade, almost knocking him over.  
Rain was pouring in rivulets down Jamie's forehead and cheeks from his hair, his face twisted in pain.  
Barely able to stand, let alone stagger. 

"SORRY!" He called after Malcolm's retreating back. "MALC!.......I'm sorry......" 

"The fuck you are!" Came the retort.


	10. Alarm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Ellie and the children go down to Oban harbour to wait for 'Rainbow' to come in.....

CHAPTER TEN.  
ALARM. 

_Thursday morning......_

Ellie McDonald lay under the warm covers in the comfortable cottage bed. 

Two pillows propped behind her. 

She couldn't lay flat anymore because the weight of the foetus pressing against her felt as if she were being slowly suffocated. 

Smoothing her hands over her distended stomach she smiled to herself. This baby was so wanted.  
It had taken a long time for her to fall pregnant again, in spite of trying since Jess was a year old.  
She was now three.

When the doctors told her husband he had a low sperm count, Jamie cried.  
Devastated that it was him. It had been a matter of male pride.  
Somehow made worse by the fact that his best friend Malcolm Tucker, whom he tried to emulate in most things, seemed to be the opposite.  
Determined to improve his chances, Jamie gave up drinking, tried to eat sensibly and took himself off to the gym.  
To his delight, it worked. 

James McDonald looked up to Malcolm almost as a father figure, nay, almost a God......in spite of there only being a few years age difference between them.  
Confidante, mentor, friend and brother. 

He had been so deliriously happy when Malc had contacted him, after such a long estrangement, eager to mend the relationship between them.  
Five years they'd been separated. 

It had all been Sam's doing. Wonderful Sam. 

_"Call him Malcolm.......talk to him......he loves you......and I know you miss him....."_

To his credit, Malcolm did. 

Asking his old comrade to be godparent to his firstborn. 

Since then Jamie had stepped up to the plate, proved himself time and time again.  
Because that was what he felt he should do. Prove himself worthy of _The Man_.  
Ellie even met him through the Tucker's.  
She'd been friends with Sam since uni. 

A little match making came into play it was true.  
It seemed they just gelled.  
If he was honest with himself Jamie thought Ellie was out of his league, but apparently not.  
It was a love match. 

Perhaps they did not have quite the same unique bond as Malcolm and Sam, but to be honest, few did.  
What they _did_ have was extra special, although Jamie still aspired to a similar relationship to that of his friend. 

Not quite there yet, but pretty damn close. 

The baby was kicking. 

Rising, Ellie moved to the window. It was still raining outside, had been for most of the night.  
She fervently hoped the trip had not been too awful for Malcolm. 

It was still early. 

The four children were all still asleep in their bunks she supposed.  
Silent anyway. 

Standing there, she caught sight of her profile in the mirror. Turning sideways to admire her burgeoning roundness.  
Stroking it fondly. 

She hoped so much for a boy. 

For Jamie to have a son. 

Although he said he didn't care either way, she knew. 

He dearly wanted a baby boy. 

So did she. 

oOo

A sharp little elbow was digging into Sam's ribs. 

Her daughter. Snuggled at her side. With brown bear wedged in between them. 

Grace's nocturnal wanderings had profoundly disturbed her mother, although she would never admit it.  
Sam just wanted to get down to the harbour, watch that boat come putting slowly in, and sigh with relief. 

Leaving her little girl to sleep on, she stole from the bed and went to make a cup of tea. 

Waiting while the kettle boiled, two cups at the ready, she felt, rather than heard a presence behind her. 

"God! Ellie! You made me jump!" 

"Sorry hun! You're up early." 

"Yeah, I had a little visitor in the night. A certain Daddy's girl who was missing her daddy! I'm making tea, want some?" 

"Please! This one woke me up." Ellie poked at her own belly accusingly. 

"What time do we need to get down to the marina?" Sam passed over the steaming mug. 

"Around noon is high tide. So they'll be in around then I reckon, but it's been windy, so they may have made better time.....still chucking it down out there......." 

"I know! I hope Malcolm isn't pissed off.....or hasn't been sea sick the whole way or something......" 

"Well, we'll find out in a few hours!" 

oOo

The angry sky glared down at Sam with a sneer. 

Rain continued unabated, soaking wet rain, which insinuated its way down the back of the neck, cold and miserable.  
Out into the wide crescent bay the sea was dark and foreboding, whipped up to a froth by the unrelenting wind.  
Oban's unique position afforded it shelter which other places were not so lucky to receive. The island of Kerrera formed a narrow inlet into the harbour mouth. That strip of land, combined with the Isle of Mull behind it, was the town's security blanket, often keeping it from the worst of the storms. It also benefitted from the Gulf Stream, which kept temperatures up, although the precipitation was consequently high, lots of warm, wet ocean condensing and making the huge rolling clouds she could see now overhead. 

Parking the car and telling the others to wait inside it, she wandered down to the jetty where the CalMac ferries came in. 

One large blue and white boat, _'The Lord of the Isles'_ was moored restlessly alongside, like a dog tugging on the leash to be free.

The terminal looked almost deserted, just a few bored and rather diffident staff milling about with nothing much to do. 

She soon found out why. 

A large handwritten sign, propped against the ticket desk. 

_"FERRY SERVICES SUSPENDED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!"_

Sam frowned, and made to turn away. As she did so, a uniformed man came out from behind reception, carrying a cardboard cup of coffee, looking suitably ferry captain-like.  
On a whim she decided to approach him. 

"Excuse me......." 

Turning, the man smiled down at her warmly. 

"What can I do for you?" He asked congenially. 

"I was wondering, as the ferries aren't running......has the weather been very bad?" 

Laughter was her answer. 

"Appalling!" He chuckled. "Not quite so much here, but bad lower down The Sound......no one in their right mind would be out there in this lot, especially last night......" 

The seaman must have seen Sam blanch, the colour leaching from her face. She staggered slightly.

"Here! Lass......you alright?" The kindly soul used an arm to guide her to a nearby seat, sitting her down and calling to his colleague behind the desk to fetch her a drink of water. 

"My husband......" Raising her eyes to meet his, Sam began tremulously. "They sailed from Gourock early yesterday, to arrive here by this lunchtime.......with the tide.......there was nothing of the storm on the Shipping Forecast......."

"It's what's called a weather bomb lass, comes outa nowhere! Now look......don't panic.....they won't have still been out there! At the first sign of this lot heading their way, they'd have made for the nearest anchorage. Holed up somewhere along the Kintyre perhaps. There's no phone signal half the time, and the wifi is iffy.....they wouldn't be able to let you know. They'll be safe as houses, in harbour somewhere.....Gigha maybe or even Jura......" 

Sam fought to control the rising feeling of nausea in her stomach. 

"But.....how do I find out? What do I do? My friend is in the car.....with the children, her husband is with mine......they're together......Jamie's an experienced sailor......." 

"Then that's all good. He'll know what to do! I'm sure they'll be absolutely fine......but look, let's contact the Coastguard, see if anyone has heard anything. They may well have radioed in when it turned nasty....." 

Standing, the Ferry captain smiled again. 

"Go fetch your kids and your friend, we can keep them amused while we make some calls for you, yeah?" 

"You're so kind." Relief in Sam's voice spoke volumes. 

Of course they were alright, they'd have done just what this man said.  
Run for shelter. 

Moored up, to wait it out. 

They'd be in a pub somewhere. 

Safe as houses. 

With a whiskey and a steak and kidney pie. 

Laughing and talking about old times. 

oOo

 _The Bothy. Scarba.(with the beach behind where they came ashore and the cliff where they sheltered)_

Malcolm forced his way into the bothy. 

It was run down and dank inside. Although it was perfectly sound, having unbroken windows and a proper chimneyed fireplace. One room downstairs and an upstairs roof space which Malcolm didn't even bother with. The floor space was bare apart from an old mattress, a table and a couple of wooden chairs. 

Driftwood was plentiful, as there were no inhabitants to gather it, but being barefoot was a positive disability when it came to moving around. 

Malcolm had never experienced such cold in his life. Never warm at the best of times, he felt right now that he'd never be warm again. It seemed to sap his energy and fog his brain.  
Setting the fire to blazing, he made to return to the campsite to tote the rest of the gear. 

Jamie had barely moved. Sitting crouched by the rock face, more or less where Malcolm left him.  
Hugging himself.  
Shivering. 

Gathering the rest of the bags, plus their wet clothes, in the hope he might be able to dry them, Malcolm turned to his friend. 

"You gonna sit there all fucking day and freeze to death....or are you coming to the cottage wi' me?" 

Wide, puppy eyes glanced sorrowfully up at him. 

"Coming wi' ye Malc." 

"Right! Get your skinny arse up then, and get yoursel' moving......I can't fucking carry you. I haven't the strength. And there's nowt wrong with yer fucking legs anyway!" 

Again, a look of despair. 

"Can you help me at least? It hurts like fuck Malc.......I'm no' putting it on......" 

Malcolm rolled his eyes theatrically. 

"Christ Almighty! Come on then, you pathetic cunt! Lean on me.....take it slow.....and mind you don't slip.....it's like glass on those rocks....." 

Malcolm slid an arm around his friend, tucking under his good side, supporting his weight as best he could.  
Progress was painful and Jamie complained bitterly. 

Malcolm either ignored him, or swore at him. 

"How come a streak o' piss like you is so fucking heavy! Jesus! Pint pot high, but completely full of shit!" 

It took almost half an hour to reach the door. 

Soaked through again. 

Cold, tired and hungry. 

At least inside they were, at last, out of the howling wind and rain completely.  
In fact, compared with recent hours it was fucking luxury. 

Jamie lowered himself to the floor utterly exhausted, then began to weep. 

Malcolm put his hands on his hips. 

"What are you fucking crying for, you thumping great Jessie? For fucks sake man! Pull yourself together....let's get you out of these wet things....take another look at that arm......" 

"I'm sorry Malcy for what I said......truly.......I'm sorry.....please....don't be angry with me.....I'm hurtin' bad....." 

His friend furrowed his brows. 

"Oh! Shut the fuck up for Christ's sake, can't you see I'm trying to keep you goin'? The best way I know how. Now stop whinging and get to the fire. I'll see about some food, and perhaps a wee dram.....okay?" 

Jamie couldn't look his best friend in the eye. 

"Aye. But I'm still sorry........" He mumbled. 

"Well, forget it.....we're alive.....and we're gonna fucking stay that way! You got a bairn on the way, and gotta see my Sam and my weans again.......we'll get rescued....someone'll come....we just gotta keep ourselves goin......." 

Jamie nodded dumbly, swiping the back of his hand under his runny nose. 

"Now, let's see that arm o' yours......."


	11. The Waiting Game.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Ellie are hoping for news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I don't know much how they go about searching for missing people at sea, I've done my best with the information available.  
> But it is only a story so I hope you'll be gentle with me. 
> 
> Most of you will be aware of Malcolm and Jamie's 'pint pot Judas' argument when Malcolm was convinced Jamie was responsible for leaking Tom's drug taking and other problems. I cite it as the cause of their estrangement.
> 
> The conversation between the girls is all speculative but I hope has a ring of truth.  
> I've not ever written a gay partnership between Malc and Jamie but there's no reason why there couldn't be, it's just a matter of taste really I guess. And I happen to see them as heterosexual. However, I do think they are very close. It just seems right somehow.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.  
THE WAITING GAME.

_Thursday afternoon....._

Sitting in the reception area, Sam watched blankly as the children sat around with colouring books and crayons given them by the CalMac staff.  
Playing happily.  
All four were strangely subdued and quiet, not arguing or giggling together as they had been at the rock pools the day before.

Ellie supervising them as they waited. 

Samantha Tucker was in a dream. 

It wasn't real, this. 

In a moment she'd wake, and the boat would come pootling around the end of the bay, into the harbour.  
Her husband standing at the prow, triumphant, waving. 

She wasn't sure if Ellie was in denial or if she simply believed the two men were quite safe somewhere and it was only a matter of time till they showed up. 

As for herself......she knew.

From the moment she'd woken in the night to the sound of Malcolm's voice calling to her in her head.....from the second her young daughter had entered the darkened bedroom in tears.

She knew. 

Something had happened. 

Not exactly sure what. But something. 

Utterly terrified inside, but somehow keeping a lid on it. Neither Jamie, Robbie or Grace.....nor Jess for that matter, must get wind that something was up.  
As far as they were concerned, their Daddies were delayed, and they'd see them later. 

It was almost an hour before the Captain returned. 

"Mrs Tucker......." He drew Sam to one side. "The Coastguard have had no call ins. I think it's time we informed the Police, and alerted the RNLI......that's our next step." 

By the time the Police car drew up outside the ferry terminal, it was mid afternoon, and the Rainbow was several hours overdue. 

Ellie came to Sam's side, sliding an arm through hers, as the officer spoke to her. 

"We'll need to check anchorages and small inlets along the route. Can you provide us with the exact details of the journey they planned to take?"

"Mrs McDonald here has it, and she's actually sailed the route before, with her husband. He's an experienced sailor and has travelled the waters many times.....but my husband is a complete novice. He doesn't know one end of a boat from the other......." 

Ellie's fingers squeezed her friend's arm reassuringly.

"Well they radioed in as they passed Largs, giving their position and the weather update, so we've traced them as far as the turn at the end of the peninsula at least. That narrows it down. But the GPS has been affected by the storm, the signal is weakened and it's proved more difficult to follow their progress from there on." 

Sam's face brightened momentarily, then fell. 

"Don't worry ladies. We'll send the word out and put an appeal on the radio. In bad weather everyone in the Isles listens to the wireless, it's the one life line that stoically remains when all the others go down.  
Technology is a marvellous thing but it will always lose in a fist fight with The Hebrides.  
We'll try to contact the lifeboat crew on Islay, and we have a local man on Jura, we can ask if anyone spotted them, or if they pulled in there. A lot depends on where they'd got to when the storm hit. There's lifeboat stations at Campbelltown, Islay and here in Oban too......it's extremely rough to launch at present......but we've got options.....if the worst comes to the worst we have Air/Sea rescue to fall back on. But first we need to establish, as quickly as possible, whether they are holed up safe somewhere." 

oOo

So utterly helpless. 

It was late afternoon before they arrived back at the cottage. 

Sam knew everyone was doing all they could, but she felt she needed to be out there herself. That she would somehow know where to find them, even if strangers couldn't. 

The hours ticked by.  
It was if Malcolm and Jamie had been beamed up by Scots loving aliens. No one had, apparently, seen hide nor hair of them.  
Each avenue of enquiry drew a blank as the evening came on. 

No one was really hungry. 

Copious cups of tea were all that either of the women wanted. 

The children ate their pasta in silence. Seated around the table. Caught by the mood of their mothers, in spite of their best efforts to remain normal and calm. 

Sam and Ellie listened to the local radio bulletin together in the front room. 

_"And now a missing person’s message._  
_This is a message for Mr Malcolm Tucker and Mr James McDonald._  
_If they themselves are listening or anyone knows of the whereabouts of these two, would they please contact the Oban Constabulary as soon as possible._  
_Contact numbers will be repeated at the end of this bulletin._  
_Sailing from Gourock, 4am Wednesday, passing Campbelltown, Gigha, Islay and Jura, heading for the Sound of Luing and on up towards Oban._  
_If you passed the sailing yacht Rainbow, or have any definite fix or sighting of the vessel, either from sea or shore, or know of any craft which has made port in the area in the last 24 hours, or if you have any information you think might be helpful, again please contact the Police or the Coastguard._  
_Here are the contact numbers again......."_

Ellie clasped Sam's hand tight. Her face was drawn and pale. 

"Mummy?" 

Both adults almost jumped out of their skins at the sound of the wee voice behind them.  
Hurriedly brushing away a tear and sniffing, the two turned to see Grace standing in the doorway.  
Her youthful face grave and concerned. 

"Daddy's lost isn't he?" 

Bending, Sam held out her arms, inviting the little girl to step into them. 

"We don't know sweetheart......we're hoping someone's seen them." 

The furrowed brow looked so like that of her father. The eyes were his also. The similarity was startling. 

"Whatever's happened, they'll be alright." She stated firmly, pulling back from her mother. "Daddy will take care of Uncle Jamie. He always has. He told me......" 

"What? Your Daddy told you that?" Ellie asked, taking the child's shoulders gently and holding the steady, honest childish gaze. 

"No.....Uncle Jamie told me......" The reply was so matter of fact, so completely genuine. Ellie didn't doubt the truth of it for a second.  
".......he said Daddy was always there, right from when he was Robbie's age, or even younger.....he said he was very very brave. Braver than anyone he'd ever known." 

Ellie McDonald swallowed back a sob.

oOo

_Thursday night....._

Four little heads rested sleepily on their pillows. 

Wee Grace wanted to stay up, but Sam persuaded her she would much better be rested for if Daddy came home, so she was ready to see him.  
This convinced her, and she curled up under the duvet finally, brown bear tucked under one arm.

Light out.

The darkness was complete. 

Wind and rain still battered, although Sam knew it was far worse further south. 

The two women fell to talking, far into the night. 

“Your Grace scares me, it’s like looking into the head of a forty year old.....and she’s so like Malcolm! Her eyes, her mannerisms, that quirk she gives with her mouth.....”

“Tell me about it! Nancy told me that’s exactly how Malcolm was as a child, she said he was so astute and very sensitive. He knew everything that was going on and he didn’t miss a trick. Too clever by half she said! His mam was so proud when he got into Grammar School, the first in the family ever to do so apparently. Nance said she never knew where it came from!”

“I can believe it! Jamie told me they spent a great deal of time together as children.”

“They did. Jamie and Nance were in the same class, Malcolm a few years ahead. But Jamie used to get bullied....not sure why. He was the only kid in their tenement block that was an only child. Funnily enough he was very quiet then, very subdued.....so Malc tells me, all that swearing and bluster didn’t come till later.....after he left the seminary. I think Malcolm got him out of a good few scrapes!”

“I can’t image them both as children! I always see your Malc just as he is now, somehow.....I used to be scared of him......were you? When you worked for him I mean....?”

“No. I never was. I don’t know why. None of his swagger was ever really aimed at me. I think that when he came to England he thought others looked down on him.....as a hick.....a lesser mortal. He felt he had something to prove to everyone, that in order to make it, to show he was just as good as the Oxbridge lot, he had to work twice as hard as everyone else.  
Malcolm is a grafter. It’s in his DNA. Nothing was handed to him on a plate.  
Then once he made it, it was a juggling act to try to keep himself there.....top of the tree......most of the time I think he was simply scared. The swearing and the alpha male stuff was his way of coping with it.”

“And you fell I love with him......because of that?”

Sam smiled at the memories. 

“ I dunno. I guess. Lots of reasons. Somehow we just gelled. I looked up to him of course.....just as Jamie did......but it was different for me somehow......I just felt that under all that bluff and bad language, he was terrribly vulnerable, if he was wounded, he was like an animal, he’d lash out, but I sensed he was capable of great love......devotion even......and that he desperately needed it in return.......and I was right.” 

“He was always kind to you.......?”

“Always. Thoughtful too. He had no idea I was in love with him though.....we were friends first.....good friends. He says I was the only friend he had.....apart from Jamie. We were the only ones who knew about his divorce too, how devastated he’d been then, I never met his ex.....but I spoke to her on the phone a few times , she was poison.”

“Jamie talks about the leak business, with Tom.....you know......an awful lot. I don’t think he really thought it would all go quite so tits up. He really felt that the man was unfit for office......he genuinely wanted a leadership challenge.....his timing wasn’t great.....he realises that. The fact that Malcolm was so furious just broke him into a million pieces. I think Malcolm thought it was a self serving thing....to boost his own star....you know? But it wasn’t. Jamie cried when he recounted that ‘pint pot Judas’ conversation. He was devastated.” 

“I don’t think Malc thought he was trying to raise his own profile.....I think he thought it was just political mischief......but you know what? He was as upset about it all as Jamie was. Like cutting off his own right arm. He was so miserable afterwards.......that’s why when Little Jamie was born, I wanted him to get in contact......bury the hatchet.....I felt it was time.”

“Thank god you did! I met my husband because of what you did......” 

Ellie stopped suddenly, choked with emotion.

“Jamie loves Malcolm......you know that? Deeply.....”

“Yeah. I know. I can see it.”

“There’s something there between them Sam.....it’s not sexual, but I think it could be if Malcolm was that way inclined. I don’t know, I’ve seen the way he looks at Malcolm sometimes.....and I’ve wondered.”

“I don’t think Jamie is in the closet, Ellie. He’s never had a male partner that I’m aware of, and he sure as hell wasn’t saving himself for Malcolm. He's a ladies man, through and through. He’d had quite a few girlfriends, before he met you, I mean....and when he DID meet you he was bowled over....thought he was punching well above his weight. Didn’t think you’d be interested......was chuffed to bits when you were......he loves Malc, sure, but it’s not a gay thing.”

“What is it with Malcolm and attracting blokes? He’s like a man magnet!”

Sam laughed. 

“I don’t know! Malcolm thinks it’s funny, and he wasn’t even aware of his ‘magnetism’ till I pointed it out to him! Julius Nicholson was a case in point! Practically salivating each time Malc walked into the room! I don't think Malcolm has ever had any qualms about his own sexuality, he's as heterosexual as they come!  
I think some guys just look at all that perceived aggression and testosterone and imagine themselves being the bottom to his top! I dunno. Queuing up to be fucked by Malcolm Tucker! Or maybe they want to fuck him....! I don’t think that applies to Jamie though......they are brothers......it’s different.”

“Yeah. I think you _ARE_ right. Malcolm used to take care of him, make him feel safe, protected, I don’t think Jamie was a very confident child. Then there was the whole church thing. So repressed and controlling. Where girls or anything of a sexual nature was made out to be a mortal sin.  
I think it’s what made him want to go into the priesthood, that male dominated world.....it must have seemed right to him at the time, the same safety and protection he’d had at school with Malc.”

“Yes....but he soon realised it wasn’t what he wanted.....don’t you see? That celibate life, he didn’t fit in, that’s why he got out.....it was against his natural inclinations......he liked girls....women.....he liked the whole idea of love and marriage......he’d been looking for it ever since.......and Malcolm was there for him then. Got him into working for the newspaper, gave him a leg up.......so of course he’d look up to him, as a friend.....a brother.....but not as a lover......I don’t think so anyway.” 

“I love him so much Sam.....and this little one too...” She stroked her stomach. 

“I love Malc too, more than I could ever say.......he’s my soulmate.... he’s my......” 

The sound of the telephone split into the conversation. 

Sam leapt up to answer it. Ellie crossing the room and standing with her ear close to her friend’s.

“Hello? Right! Ok.......what does that mean?” 

Ellie strained to make out the words. She glanced at the clock, it was 2am. 

Sam put the phone down, struggling to keep her composure. 

“What is it? What’s happened? Have they found them?” Ellie demanded urgently. 

“That was the Police. A man from Jura heard the radio broadcast......he rang in to say he thought he saw a red distress flare......somewhere over the sea, off the island’s coast ......oh God! Ellie! I feel sick.....”


	12. Brothers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is caring for his best friend ......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So lots of banter and conversation here. I kinda like the little gay ribbing going on between them. It's all good natured and I think it kinda goes way back to when Jamie was in the seminary and Malcolm teases him about the enforced celibate lifestyle. 
> 
> There will be more on this subject later. 
> 
> But it's all in fun and neither of them are fazed by it. Basically they are just two blokes who know their own sexuality. They are comfortable with each other and trust each other. 
> 
> All the info on Scarba is real.

CHAPTER TWELVE.  
BROTHERS. 

_Thursday lunchtime......_

The tin camping pan bubbled at the edge of the grate, where Malcolm had placed it to warm. 

Coffee or tea could be made in a rinsed out soup can. Thank god for a pack of tea bags, a tin of milk powder, some sugar and the Camp Chicory which had been stowed in the cabin cupboard aboard Rainbow! Malcolm could make it, then decant it into the Thermos, giving them a supply of scalding hot drink without having to bother with the whole rigmarole of water boiling every time. 

One thing Scarba did not lack was an abundance of fresh water.  
It was fucking everywhere! 

Not only was it raining down on them in vast quantities from above, but it lay in pools on the boggy landscape amongst the heather all around the bothy.  
Malcolm didn’t know it but there were also tarns and small lochs higher up where the runoff from the hill collected. 

Scarba was almost entirely made up of the large hill at its centre, called Cruach Scarba, which rose to a height of 449m. On a clear day it commanded wonderful views across the Corryvreckan towards Jura, or, in the other direction, over the Sound of Luing towards the mainland. 

Malcolm didn’t give a donkey shit about the panorama.  
It was thoroughly blotted out by the foul weather anyway. In fact he could barely see back to the shoreline either outside or through the grimy salt sprayed windows.

He'd tried his phone again earlier that day but it was still completely dead. Jamie informed him that the severe weather sometimes interfered with a GPS signal, making it impossible to triangulate a position, he'd advised him to leave it switched off till the weather improved, then it may give out a precious signal once again. 

oOo

Malcolm was in no way coy about exposing himself. He was far too cold and wet to give a flying fuck. 

Jamie watched the show from his ringside seat. 

Stripping himself down to the skin unceremoniously, he shivered as he hung his wet togs from the back of the chair, to one side of the fire in an attempt to dry them off. 

If Jamie McDonald ever harboured any thoughts of fancying Malcolm, they would sure as hell take a beating right now.  
His friend was blue tinged. So pale he was almost transparent. Genitals shrivelled and hanging limply.  
The, admittedly, fine curve of his spine, his bony shoulder blades, elbows and knees were peppered with scuffs and abrasions. 

Malcolm was not muscular or toned in any way. 

At best he could be described as 'wiry'. Not an ounce of fat on him, except for a slight looseness about the belly, and even that was rapidly disappearing. 

That being said, Jamie could understand why women went for him, and men for that matter....there was a lean, tensile strength about him that pleased the eye. 

His chest was nought but a ridged washboard, the clavicles prominent, with small hollows at the base of his sinewy neck where they were attached.  
Straight at the hip, with rather nice rounded buttocks.....although at present, his arse sported several welts and bruises. Making him look rather as if he'd been recently spanked.  
Jamie found himself grinning with ribald amusement at this thought, in spite of his pain. 

His eyes wandered up the well defined thighs, across the torso, reaching the face, only to be met by a mock angry glare and a questioningly raised eyebrow. 

"See anything you like? You massive gay shite......"

Jamie tried hard not to laugh as it hurt too much. 

"You look like one of those fucking crash test dummies......after they've bin used......"

"Fuck you!" 

Malcolm shivered, moving closer to the fire. 

If only he could just get warm! 

His fingers were numb with cold, so he placed them into the pan of warm water for a few moments. 

The pain as the capillaries opened and the blood began to flow back to the tips was exquisite. 

Sucking in grateful breaths, as the feeling returned. 

Dunking an old flannel, he laved his pallid body with it, then pulled on a dry t shirt, a fleece, and some spare lightweight shell trousers, especially designed for sailing in and extremely useful, since they dried quickly.  
Sitting on the floor he regarded the soles of his feet with a grimace, they were blistered and sore, both from the salt water and from walking across the rocks and shingle on the beach.  
He cursed the loss of his shoe, and the fact he’d recklessly jettisoned the remaining one. Leaving himself barefoot. 

He had no socks. 

Too bad. 

Maybe he could wrap them in something at some point. 

Warmer now......

.......the bothy, with a roaring fire going, was pretty cosy.  
A darn sight better than being exposed to the full force of the elements, down by the shore. 

Things were looking up! 

A groan from the mattress on the floor bought him back down to earth, as his friend experienced a fresh wave of pain. 

Malcolm knelt at Jamie’s side once more, as his friend tried to stifle his sniffs. 

“C’mon pal. Your turn now. Lets see you in the buff, you fucking knob jockey!! And I'll have a deco at that fucking arm o’ yours.” He said, with a somewhat unsavoury waggle of his eyebrows.  
Jamie was not impressed, pulling away. 

“Careful, Malc.....don’t touch it......fuck me! It hurts so much. Can I have a drink first......?”

“Gotta be done! You’re fucking soaked through you wanker....look.....get your kit off you namby ponce.....I’ve got a hot flannel here.....then a dry shirt and a fleece for you......thank Christ we had a change of clothes........”

Jamie demurred, reluctant either to be exposed or have his arm disturbed. 

Malcolm relented, moving back and passing him some coffee instead, poured into the plastic Thermos cup.  
Reaching behind Jamie’s head, Malcolm helped him sit forwards to allow him to drink. 

His friend’s hand shook as he sipped the hot beverage, closing his eyes for a moment after each mouthful as if it were pure heaven. 

“I’ll never moan about fucking Starbucks again......I swear......” He breathed. 

Once done, Malcolm turned his attention to undressing his comrade, who seemed suddenly painfully shy.  
"For fucks sake, you big girl's blouse......I've seen you in the raw before....taint nothin' to yer....you're nowt but a wee streak o' piss......" 

Jamie surrendered, as Malcolm began to divest him of his wet things, trying to warm him, before he came to tackle the arm, which he almost dreaded unstrapping. 

Shoes, socks, trousers, pants, all carefully removed. A brief rub over with the hot flannel then replaced with dry things. 

Neither man spoke. 

Malcolm just got on with it. 

Jamie meekly allowing himself to be attended to, but avoiding eye contact. Banter was one thing, stark reality was quite another. 

Finally, the inevitable could be put off no longer. 

Malcolm unstrapped the arm from across his friend’s chest. 

“Och! Och! _No, no, no, no, no_......Malc......Malc.......Oh, sweet Mother of God......” 

The colour drained from the man’s face. 

“You gonna fucking pass out again?” Malcolm stopped for a moment to allow Jamie to steel himself. 

A vigorous shake of the head and a clamped jaw was his only reply. 

All the pain emanated from the top of the arm. The humerus was clearly broken roughly half way down, the arm twisted slightly, in an odd shape. The skin down to the elbow, black and blue.  
Jamie’s fingers and forearm were also badly swollen, in spite of the elevated position they’d been held in. 

Malcolm’s eyes widened at the sight, but he betrayed nothing. 

“Meh! Doesn’t look too bad! Let’s get your good arm out first.....then I can lift your shirt over your head and down the bad arm.....okay?”

Malcolm was the most tender of nurses. 

Gently laying the steaming wash cloth over the worst of the injury, bringing a brief moment of relief as the heat penetrated. 

“Okay......?” He asked, gingerly moving the warmth to a different area, his long fingers probing. 

“Yeah, yeah.....it’s good.......” His friend gasped. Gritting his teeth against the agony. 

“There’s only paracetamol in the First Aid Kit......want some?” 

“Yeah.....yeah.....” The voice was weak now, the breathing shallow. “Oh fuck Malc......fuck.....fuck.....”

“Whisht now!.....You’ll be right mate.......lean against me, take a minute.” 

Bringing his head forwards, Jamie leaned into his friend’s bony chest. His forehead pressed against the sternum.  
It was as if this moment of comfort opened a floodgate, his shoulders began to tremble and unbridled sobs broke from him, released, unstoppable. 

Malcolm’s hand came to rest at the back of his head, stroking the matted curls with great tenderness. 

“Malc.....I’m sorry.......can’t help it........hurts so much.........fuck, but I’m such a wuss.......but seriously, I never had pain like it......”

“Its a nasty break......let’s try and get it more comfortable.....I think I’m gonna try to splint it......you sit here yeah? Eat some of this soup and an energy bar.....while I go find something suitable.....”

“You’re no’ goin’ out there again? It’s pissing down.......”

“It’s _always_ fucking pissing down! It does nothing BUT piss down !! Bloody God forsaken shit hole......but it’s okay, I’ll put my windcheater back on......I’ll no’ be gone long, there’s plenty of wood on the shore line.....tell you what though.....I could do with a borrow of your shoes......”

“You’re two sizes bigger than me!” 

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.....anything’s better than ma bare feet......” 

oOo

Leaving the cottage, the strength of the wind almost took the door from Malcolm’s hands. 

It was like stepping into a hurricane after the relative calm of being inside. 

Malcolm glanced up at the black vengeful sky above him. 

“I HATE THIS FUCKING PLACE!” He yelled into the buffeting wind. “YOU HEAR ME?” 

He hobbled away towards the shore once more. 

“You won’t fucking beat me.....you understand....?” His shouted conversation was to himself but addressed to his Maker, whom he had very little respect for just at this precise moment.  
“You’ll not win......cause I’m stronger than you think, you cunt......”

“YOU HEAR ME?” He cried again, turning his face into the driving rain. “I’M GETTING OFF THIS FUCKING EXCUSE FOR AN ISLAND.......if I have to sail the dinghy myself......you won’t get Malcolm Tucker.....not like this, you wank stain.......not now.......you put me in this shite....separated me from my wife and kids....... _YOU AND ME_.......we got a fucking score to settle.” 

There was no answer but the howling of the wind. 

Furiously he gathered some short, flat pieces of wood, bits of an old crate washed up on the beach. 

Reentering the bothy in a flurry of raindrops and blast of cold air. 

“I’m back!” He announced. “And guess what? It’s _still_ fucking windy and it’s _still_ fucking raining....”

Jamie remained slumped on the mattress, clutching his arm at the elbow with his other hand, moaning pitifully. 

“......but the good news is.....I’ve had a word with Him Upstairs.....I’ve told Him.....this has gotta fucking stop.....pronto!!”

Malcolm stripped off his wet coat, flinging it aside, and knelt once more beside his best friend. 

“Here! C’mon sunshine. Let’s see about this arm then......” 

Using the wooden slats and a wide bandage, the offending article was soon effectively immobilised.  
It was then strapped back crosswise, in as comfortable position as possible. Left hand resting on right shoulder. 

At last they could breath a sigh of relief. 

The effort of all this activity exhausted them both. 

Worn out. 

Malcolm settled himself on the mattress beside the blaze, pulling his mate close to him. 

Nothing but the crackle of the fire and the sound of wind and rain beating against the windows. 

Taking out Jamie’s silver hip flask , Malcolm took a swig before passing it over. Allowing the amber liquid to filter down into every fibre. 

Encircled in the comforting embrace, Jamie let out a long sigh. 

“I was always nothing but trouble to you Malcy.....” He whispered sorrowfully. 

“Oh hush theself’.......you’re a pain in the fucking arse.....you always were!” Malcolm replied softly, taking another lug, swallowing thickly, then offering his friend a second tot with a nudge.

His large hand began to rub the other’s back gently, smoothing across the shoulder blades, up to the neck and back down again.  
Feeling the coiled tension in Jamie’s body begin to relax, melting into the warmth of his fleece. 

“Thank you for saving my life.....you shoulda left me......”

“Will you shut the fuck up you tosser.....as if I’m gonna leave you there to die....what sort of man do you think I am?”

“You’re the best.....always were......don’t deserve it.......” Came the weary response. 

“Jamie! For the love of Christ! Will you stop this! You’re ma pal......we’re brothers......that’s the way it is.....”

Sniffling was the only reply. 

“.....I swear to god! You’re worse than one o’ my weans......” 

Malcolm’s grip tightened, his long fingers moving up to the hair, combing through the curls, much as he might of an evening when little Grace would come to him, snuggle up in his lap, her golden head resting against his chest. 

Jamie’s eyes fluttered shut and he sighed again, shuffling himself a little closer, relishing the soothing feel of the stroking hand. 

“D’ye remember Jimmy McGregor?” He asked quietly, brushing away a tear. 

“What......the singer?”

“No! You twat! The boy in Mrs Wainwright’s class.......”

“Oh! Him! Aye....I remember. Scabby little gobshite.” 

“He was. You remember when he got hold o’ me after school.....back o’ the Fire Station.......beat the living shit outa me.....?”

“Aye. I found yers hiding in the wee den......over the waste ground......you were greetin then! Bawling yer eyes out.....all your mouth was bleedin’.” 

Malcolm’s hand stilled as his thoughts spiralled back to his eleven year old self, recalling the moment when he found his younger pal, blooded and battered, crouched in their corrugated iron hideout, where they and the other kids from their tenement block often used to play, crying fit to bust. 

“Don’t stop.....feels gud......” Jamie whispered sleepily. 

“What? You like me petting you now, do you? You crazy wee mongrel......I worry about you sometimes!”

But the response was good natured, and the gentle touch recommenced.

“Ye remember what you did.....how you got him back......?” Jamie continued. 

Malcolm chuckled deep in his throat. 

“Aye! I remember that right enough....you thought I was gonna pummel him for yer......”

“I did! But you never did that did you? Fighting.....? I never remember you hitting anyone.....you were far too clever...... said we’d just get into trouble that way......so you set up that water bucket.....over the classroom door.....right early......fuck me Malc....it was a huge risk..... _anyone_ coulda walked in there before he did.....the teacher even.....”

“No way mate! That’s why I did it. He was always first in, ‘cause his da was the school caretaker remember? An’ he was never in the playground, he used to go on in, clean the blackboard for his da......every mornin.....smarmy little git.....butter wouldn’t fucking melt.....” 

“Oh boy.....he got such a dousing....soaked through he was.....and the bucket hit him on the hid too! Best fucking thing ever.....”

“An’ he never found out who set him up! Serve him fucking well right, the nasty wee snitch!”

Jamie closed his eyes. 

For the first time since being found on the beach his arm felt more at ease. The splint and bandage holding it still and supporting so well, that the pain was lessened. 

He felt so desperately tired. 

Emotional to the point of bursting. 

The warmth from the fire, dry clothes, food, and a tot of whiskey worked magic. 

Here he was, being held, comforted.......loved. 

It was overwhelming. 

The gratitude he felt was profound. 

Above him Malcolm’s breathing slowly evened out, deepening. The stroking hand gradually slipping down until it rested on his shoulder lightly.  
Jamie placed his own hand over that of his dearest friend. 

The skin was very soft, not like a man’s hand at all. Those long elegant fingers, neat fingernails.  
Artistic, expressive, almost sensual. But the knuckles red raw at the moment.  
Raising his head he could see Malcolm’s face slacken, relaxing in sleep. Drooping down slightly as he slipped deeper into much needed slumber. 

“Thanks for everythin’ Malcy......” He murmured, becoming more and more drowsy himself.

Malcolm twitched slightly, eyelids fighting to open. 

“Hmmmm?” He muttered, only partly waking. 

“Taint nothin’......go back to sleep.” 

Jamie lay his head back down, pushed as close to Malcolm’s warm body as he could physically be. 

“No offence mate....but I really wish you were Ellie.......” He whispered, before closing his own eyes and finally drifting off.


	13. Home Truths.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Jamie have a heart to heart.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So lots more banter and a few of the feelings Jamie harbours about his friend, coming to the fore.  
> Malcolm surprisingly less argumentative this time.  
> I guessed they'd always end up arguing about something!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.  
HOME TRUTHS.

_Thursday afternoon/evening....._

Malcolm woke at what he guessed was late afternoon, because it was becoming dark, or rather, darker, outside. 

Nothing had changed weatherwise. The storm continued to blow much the same. 

Fumbling for the torch he searched for something to cook and eat. 

His guts were rumbling......soup and energy bars just weren’t cutting the mustard. 

Jamie was still sleeping, so he left him there. Extricating himself gingerly from the clinging embrace he found himself in.  
His friend barely stirred. 

A large tin of Heinz Baked Beans. Roughly half a loaf of stale sliced bread. 

Beans on toast it was then!

Once again Malcolm said a silent prayer of gratitude to himself, for having the wherewithal to empty the food stash from the yacht into the waterproof bags. 

The smell of the _haute cuisine_ woke his friend, who sat up slowly and painfully. 

“What’s on the menu?” Jamie enquired, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. 

“Baked Beans.” Came the curt reply. “Someone had better fucking find us soon and rescue us....else I’m gonna be forced to eat you!”

Jamie guffawed. 

“There are red deer on the hills....loads o’ them.......”

“Great! I’ll creep up behind one and knock it over the hid then....”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” His pal replied wryly.

Malcolm shot him a glance, but there was amusement there, behind the eyes. 

“You want fucking venison? You come up with a cunning plan to kill one then......and when you have, let me know.....but just so you’re aware.....if it involves running, hunting with a homemade bow and arrow I've fashioned myself from nought but driftwood, getting myself wet, or being cold.....I ain’t fucking doin’ it!”

Jamie laughed again but stopped quickly, wincing in pain. 

“Don’t make me fucking laugh mate....it hurts like blazes!”

“Seriously though McDonald.....we are gonna run out of grub at some point......and sadly I’m not Bear Fucking Grylls......”

Jamie struggled to his feet and sat himself on one of the wooden chairs, pulling it towards the fire and putting his feet on the hearth. 

“The storm will abate Malc.....it has to eventually.....then they’ll come looking....either a lifeboat crew, from Islay maybe....or Oban.......or they’ll send a helicopter......they might find the boat.....or what’s left of it.....”

Malcolm scratched his rough, stubbly face thoughtfully. 

“Yeah.....and what if they do? And they put 2+2 together......and make 5? Thinking we’ve fucking shuffled off this mortal coil....drowned.....been swept away.....missing, lost at sea......what then eh?”

“Mate.....they won’t just give up......they’ll come looking.....they will......it’s only a matter of time.....”

“Sam wouldn’t give up..... not my Sam......nor your Ellie for that matter....not whilst there’s the smallest chance. I know her. 100%. No matter what.  
Fuck it all Jamie.....if no cunt comes I’ll strap you to the mast of the Pudgy and I’ll fucking sail us outa here myself......don’t think I couldn’t........or wouldn’t try.......” 

Jamie smiled.

“And you know what? With you at the helm we’d fucking make it n’all! “

“Darn right we would! Look, make yourself useful while you’re sittin’ there, stick these slices on that stick and hold them near the fire to toast.....will ye? Not too close so you blacken ‘em......”

Jamie did as he was bade, prodding the bread with the stick before lifting it carefully, one handed, to the flames.  
Malcolm carefully removed the hot tin from the embers, with the sleeves of his fleece pulled down over his hands. 

“There’s no plates so we’ll have to use the can, and the spoon....that’s all we got.....sharesies.....oh and there’s no spread or anything for the bread.....you’ll have to dip it in the tomato sauce.” 

Once the toast was browned to his satisfaction, Jamie passed the slice over and Malcolm blew on the spoon of beans before tentatively taking a mouthful. 

“If you’re really good, you can have a digestive biscuit afterwards with a cup of tea....” He winked. 

“You’re all heart!” His friend retorted, with an eye roll. 

oOo

Before dark, Malcolm sallied forth once more into the beastly weather. 

He’d had an idea. 

Picking his way back to the shore where he’d left the life raft turned upside down, he removed the bright orange shelter surrounds from their fixings. 

Spreading them out, he weighed them down with large rocks, making a large tangerine square about six foot by six foot, well above the water line, but there for anyone to see.....should they be passing, or looking, or searching for signs of life, which he sincerely hoped that someone would be at some point very soon. 

He returned to the bothy wet through once again. 

Inside, however it was positively balmy compared with outside, and after a nip of whiskey each, the two settled down for their second night as castaways. 

Curled up, close together for warmth. A blanket tucked around them. 

It was pitch black outside. 

Inside, a red glow from the fire was the only light. 

Yet somehow, tonight, neither could find rest. 

oOo

“You never said it........” Malcolm’s voice was gruff and sleepy.

“Said what?”

“Your wee poem, to your da.....what was it?”

Jamie leaned back against his friend slightly, turning his head.

“Seriously? You wanna fucking do this now?” It was too dark to see the amused yet quizzical expression on the younger man’s face. 

“Wha’s wrong with now? We’re lying here.....like some fucking married couple....miles from anywhere holy......your da is somewhere at the bottom of a frickin’ whirlpool, and he never got his proper send off......”

Jamie huffed. 

“Alright then......seeing as it’s you.......”

Turning onto his back, trying to make himself comfortable, aware of Malcolm lying beside him, his head propped on one elbow. Ready to listen, he began to recite. 

_“There I will lie,_  
_Forever with a moving element,_  
_Not sunk in the leaden earth_  
_Missing the sullen music of whales_

_For a lullaby to soothe my sleep._  
_Small fish with vermillion scales_  
_Haloing wide purple faces, will dart_  
_In and out of my long dream_

_With no disturbance, their colours_  
_Shimmering and enlivening eyes_  
_Closed to the pink revelry of dawn._  
_The swell of the shifting current_

 _Will tug at my stuffed shirt, waking_  
_Me from being human, immersing_  
_My soul in water where first_  
_Life and memory began.”_

Silence followed.

It hung in the inky darkness, punctuated only by the noise of the tempest still raging outside. 

“Well?” Jamie demanded finally, when the quietness seemed to have lasted too long. “What did you think?”

Malcolm rolled onto his back, staring unseeing up at the ceiling. 

“Fucking fuck me!” He breathed. 

“Wha’s that ‘sposed to mean? You think it’s wank.......”

“No, mate....on the contrary, I think it’s worthy of fucking Poet Laureate.....did you write that yourself....?”

“Why? ‘Cause you don’t think I’m fucking refined enough to write verse like that? It’s too sophisticated for the likes o’ me?” There was an edge to Jamie’s tone. 

“That’s not what I said.” Malcolm replied wearily. “Why do you always have to fly off the fucking handle? So defensive! I merely asked if you wrote it is all?”

“Yeah....in a way that clearly said I couldn’t possibly have......”

“Okay.....so you want an argument...... _right_......so.....no, Jamie....I don’t think you’re clever enough to have written that.....because you’re far to thick and uneducated, you haven’t the skill or the panache. Plus you're a fucking wanker. If you’d a written it, it would have sounded like a shite Al Jolson song! There! Happy now?”

“Fuck you!” 

“God! You’re such a cunt! So _did_ you......?”

“Did I fucking what?”

“ _Write it_ , you fucking tosspot!”

“I can't have done, according to you."

Jamie attempted to turn on his side, facing away from his friend, giving him his back in a huff, but it backfired spectacularly because he leaned on his bad arm by mistake.  
A paroxysm of pain hit him and he cried out. 

In a second Malcolm was sitting up, one arm supporting his comrade's weight, easing him over and back and helping him to sit himself forwards. 

“Easy! Whisht......mate......careful......for fucks sake.....”

Jamie gasped in agony, fumbling about with his good hand until he found and clasped Malcolm’s fingers. 

“Fuck, fuck.......Malc......fuck.....”

“Christ Jamie! What’s fucking wrong with you? You know you’ve got a broken arm....and you lean on it just to give me the cold shoulder? Jeez....you’re fucking mental......”

Something snapped. Resentment bubbling over. 

“I’ve _always_ been second best to you.....haven’t I Malcolm.......? It’s like you’re the Da an’ I’m the wean....you’re fucking top dog, always have been. An’ I’m a wee whelp puppy, pissing myself all over the place, all eager to please the Big Man......”

Reaching for the torch, Malcolm shone it directly in his friend’s face, to gauge the expression, trying to discover if his best pal was in earnest, or having him on, so daft did his words seem.

“Jamie? Seriously! Where the fuck is this coming from......?”

But his friend was on a roll now, and could not be stopped. Shielding his eyes from the light...

“.......in everything." He continued, furious now.  
"Everything we’ve ever fucking done......at school, you looking out for me. When I came out o’ the seminary.....cause I failed there.....couldn’t cut it........the job at the paper.....then coming to work with you....all that shite with The Nutters that time..... falling out with you over Tom, then making friends again.....fuck, you even managed to engineer my marriage......matchmaking.....you and Sam.....then I couldn’t have kids....not like you.... _oh no!_ It couldn’t be could it? That I could just be like you, and pop kids out just by fucking sneezing...... _NO._  
I had to go to a clinic....wank my jizz into a fucking gallipot....humiliated.....sperms on fucking crutches.......now we’re here.....marooned on this shit island......an’ it’s my fault...and you’re _STILL_ calling the shots....because you’re okay and it’s me who’s hurt......”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this.......”

“It’s true though.....” Jamie barrelled on regardless. “.......all the way through, it’s you taking pity on me.....me being bullied, helping me find work, stepping me up the ladder when I earned a doggy bone.  
Then finding me a wife.....and now.....we’re here......and there’s no one else......and no one has come to find us.....there’s just me and you.....and you’re all I’ve fucking got...... _again!_ ”

To Jamie’s surprise his friend did not explode. Did not raise his voice in the slightest. In fact the opposite was the case.  
Malcolm’s voice was very quiet. Almost a gruff whisper. Peppered with deep heartfelt emotion. 

It took him a moment to reply, and Jamie was about to rant on again, when he finally spoke up. 

“I helped you at school because I could see you were hurting. And I knew what that felt like.....I was as alone as you were. You were the only friend I had pretty much, and I’d ‘a done anything to keep it that way. Your family were so kind to me, when me and Nance were having a rough time at home with my Da....the roughest....and I wanted to do anything I could to repay that kindness.....so, yeah....if I could keep you from getting the shit beaten outa yer.....I felt I was at least giving _something_ back. I was a fucking kid too Jamie.....right?  
As for the work...... _you came to me_.....if you remember......you were lost and vulnerable and didn’t know where your fucking arse hung......in crisis......I was in a position to help you.....that was all......so why wouldn’t I? You’re my best mate.”

Standing, Malcolm crossed to the window and stood looking out into the blackness beyond.  
In the light from the fire Jamie could see his eyes glittered with tears yet to fall. 

“Seems the person I thought knew me the best of anyone, barely knows me at all......is this _really_ what you’ve been feeling? All this time.......? And what _is_ it exactly.....eh? Bitterness? Jealousy? Envy? No.....!”

He turned to face into the room again, his expression irrepressibly sad.

“.......I’ll tell you what I think it is......I think it’s _FEAR_.......I think you’re fucking afraid.......you’re scared shitless....and you’re taking it out on me because I’m the one who’s here. I’m your fucking punchbag.  
Well.....you punch away. Be my guest.  
‘Cause you know what ? I’m scared too.....Jesus! I want Sam.....fuck knows.....more than anything in this world, I want her.....because she’s fucking _everything_ to me.......” 

Tears trickled slowly down Malcolm’s face, his chest sucking in, then out with a blow, as he fought to control himself, trying to prevent all the pent up stress from the last two days from pouring out. 

“.......I want nothing more than to hold her.....touch her.....smell her hair....." He closed his eyes, tilting his head back as the tears continued to leak out from under his lashes. "......and then there’s my kids.....my three wonderful, beautiful......fantastic weans......God! I need them so much it’s a physical pain, here......”

He held a balled fist against his sternum.

“.......and that’s what I think it feels like for you.......exactly the same......your Ellie.....that bairn inside her that you’ve prayed for for so long.......your gorgeous little Jess.....I think you are as desolate and lonely and as miserable and frightened as I am......but you can’t be a man and just fucking say it......instead you take some stupid, _pathetic_ fucking argument about a stupid, _pathetic_ poem and you turn it on me and make me out to be some megalomaniac fucking dictator who is running....and _ruining_....your entire life.....well....you go ahead. Because I don’t even give a flying fuck anymore......I just want to get off this fucking island and get home to my family.....and so do you! All the rest is just bullshit.” 

“That’s _not_ how it is....” Jamie began, as his own voice began to break. Pushing himself upright he crossed the room and stood facing his comrade.

“ _Isn’t it?_ Isn’t it though?” Malcolm said, softly, placing his hand on his friend’s sleeve gently.

“Because this is what people do, mate.....you do it.....I do it....we take all the shit that’s thrown at us in our lives.....whether it’s stuff we’ve brought on ourselves, or stuff that other people have slung at us......and we look around, we look for someone to blame. We punish them, and in so doing we punish ourselves.  
_'We don’t deserve it.....we’ve done nothing wrong....it’s the other person’s fault, not ours'_.....we examine ourselves and we protest ourselves innocent. Pushing all the anger and pain away, onto them.....just so we can deal with it.....stick it in a fucking compartment, pretend it isn’t there or it didn’t happen......rather than face up to it.... _Jesus Christ_.....I did that with the Goolding Enquiry....and look where it fucking got me......if it hadn’t have been for Sam, I’d have topped myself, or been in prison....or topped myself _IN_ prison.......she saved me Jamie....and I learned from her. _FUCK!_ ”  
He breathed deeply, forcing his emotion to stay down.  
“I learned so much! She taught me about what it feels like to be loved.....truly loved. She showed me that things that happen aren’t always my fault, sometimes things are just out of your control.  
Shit happens Jamie.....and no one's to blame......and I’m not to blame this time.....it’s just fucking bad luck.....but you know what.....we’ll get through it......and it’ll make us stronger....and we’ll still be friends......you and me.....always. Because you’re my brother.......  
......and I love you.”

At his final words Jamie gave way. 

Leaning into his friend’s chest, allowing himself to be held. 

The two men cried together. Held fast. All the anger melted away. 

Just two lost souls. 

Craving home. 

After a while Jamie pulled back slightly, his nose had run onto Malcolm's fleece, smearing it with mucous, he wiped a hand across his top lip sheepishly. 

“Well, did you.....?” Malcolm asked eventually. 

“Did I what?”

“Did you write that fucking poem or not, you prick.....?”

Jamie took a deep protracted breath. 

“Nah! I found it on Google.......”

“You absolute fucking _cunt!_ "

They broke into fits and wheezes of laughter, amid the sniffles and the tears.  
Holding onto each other for dear life.


	14. Press Pack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Ellie get a visitor......then another one, one wanted, one not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER FOURTEEN.  
PRESS PACK.

_Friday morning......_

Samantha Tucker had not slept at all. 

The news that the distress flare had been seen gave her both hope and fear in equal measure. 

The local newspaper ran a story. 

An article appeared in that morning's Oban Times. 

Ellie had taken the children out for breakfast, but Sam stayed behind, to be near a landline phone. 

She knew she should eat, yet had no appetite whatever. 

Sitting in the kitchen, staring blankly at the wall. 

Since their marriage, she and Malcolm had spent very little time apart. The odd night here and there, for a literary function or a book signing.  
Once, he'd been to New York, but on returning home he declared he'd never go again unless she could accompany him, because he missed her so much. 

There was a numbness. Deep inside her. As if some vital link had been severed inside her head.  
Emotionless. 

She hadn't cried.  
Not once. 

The children must not see her upset. 

Somewhere inside her chest there was a dull ache which didn't go away. 

Breathing a deep sigh, she stood up, switched the kettle on. All motions on a kind of autopilot. 

In spite of all her efforts, her diversionary tactics, her thoughts returned constantly to Malcolm, alone _'out there'_ perhaps.  
Hurt maybe.  
Desperate, frightened. 

Shaking her head, she forced those negative thoughts away.  
Refusing to allow them to fester. 

Not once had she allowed herself to even consider the worst. 

He was alive. Not swept away. Not drowned. This was a temporary state of affairs.  
They would be found. Rescued. She would have her husband returned to her. 

In one piece. 

Anything else was out of the question. 

She knew that everything was being done. 

The police had searched miles of coastline along the Mull of Kintyre. The Islay lifeboat had been launched, but as the sea was so terrifically rough it was deemed dangerous to stay out, and they'd been forced to return to safe harbour.  
The radio appeal had been broadcast. As well as notices, and now the Oban Times article. 

The Coastguard were also searching. The GPS had failed to locate them, and the signal from their mobile phones could not be traced, beyond Wednesday afternoon.  
But she'd been reliably informed, that this could be for a variety of reasons.....no signal, phone broken or waterlogged, battery dead......and those were the reasons Sam focused on.  
Not the other reason. Which she did not consider. 

It was as if they'd vanished from the face of the Earth. 

That was the thing Sam couldn't get her head around. 

Residents on Jura and Islay and along the mainland coast had been asked to look for any wreckage which may come ashore.  
As yet none had been reported, which in a way, was good, she reasoned.

The police detective sergeant assigned to her had remained in close contact. For which Sam was very grateful. He was a nice man. Kind. Empathetic.  
She'd told him straight though, right from the word go....

"I want to know ANY piece of info. I don't care if it's good or not, please.....don't spare me or try to cosset me. Just be honest and tell me everything that's going on."

Ellie had been with her on this 100%, neither woman wanted the wool pulled over their eyes, or to be protected from the truth.  
If it was bad news, they must be told. 

But this void.......this emptiness.....this dark and bottomless pit........

A huge black hole right through the centre of her body, which left a pain. One that never ceased, morning, noon or night. 

Her musings were suddenly rudely broken by an insistent tapping on the window. 

Not sure how long it had been going on, whilst she remained oblivious. Lost in her bubble. 

Raising her eyes to the kitchen window, she could make out a figure. 

For a single moment her heart leapt.

_"Malcolm?"_

She ran to wrench open the back door. 

"MALCOLM!" She cried. 

Standing there, on the threshold......

........was Nancy. 

Sam was, for a second or two, confused. 

" _Nancy_!" She whispered. "I'm sorry.....I saw your silhouette......I thought it was......"

She stopped, swallowing thickly.......frozen there, on the doorstep. 

"Oh Nance!" She breathed, as the two women fell together into a tight embrace. 

oOo

Seated now opposite each other, but holding hands. Two steaming cups of coffee between them. 

Malcolm's sister looked so like him at that moment, it was like looking into the eyes of her husband. Why had she never really noticed it before? The similarity.  
Only the masculine brow ridge was absent. 

 

Brother and sister. Two peas in a pod.

"He'll be alright Sam......you know that right......"

Coming around to the same side of the counter, Nancy wound her arms around her sister-in-law's neck.  
She even smelled like him, that same scent she loved so much.  
Sam breathed it in, closing her eyes. 

"I know he will. I'm sure of it....." She murmured. 

Nancy pulled back, holding her at arms length, looking into her face earnestly. 

"No, Sam.......I mean it......he _IS_ alright......I _KNOW_ it......" 

"How? How do you know?" 

"Because if something had happened to him, I'd feel it.......here....." She placed a hand flat against her breast. "And I don't.......I don't feel it......he's my brother, we are connected.  
He's still alive and he's okay.......he's just yet to be found.....that's all.......I'm completely _CERTAIN_ Sam. No doubt at all." 

"I believe you......"

Nancy couldn't help but notice how detached Sam was, rigid, almost like an automaton. Her eyes scanned the room, head on one side, listening to the silence. 

"Where's Ellie?" She asked, kindly. 

"She's taken the children out for breakfast, but I stayed behind to be near the phone.....Grace wanted to stay here with me, but I persuaded her to go with the others.....she's my little support prop!"

Sam gave a wistful smile.

"And how's she holding up?" 

"Who Grace? Or Ellie?" 

"Well, both.....but Ellie I guess, with the baby coming and everything....."

"Honestly? I think she's _this_ close to falling to pieces...." Sam held her thumb and index finger millimetres apart. ".....but if I can keep strong.....not break down.....I think she'll hold it together too. We're just trying to be there for each other, it's a waiting game......and it's just....I dunno....it's the not knowing....the thought that they might be hurt.....scared.....I try not to think about it......but it's been two nights.....how can you _not_ be beside yourself with worry?"

"You just carry on sweetie....and you do, you will......you are still a mum, and your children need you. You are still a wife.......and you'll have him back by your side again....they'll find him...... _THEM_.....they'll be together, I'd be prepared to lay bets on it.  
They were always together as kids, as teenagers......always..... if one was there, the other wasn't far away! And Grace.....the boys.....?"

"The boys are detached, they don't ask....they know something's up, but they can't compute it, so they simply don't. As for Grace.......well, she's different.......she's _Malcolm's_ daughter......through and through......from the top of her hair to her toenails.......she wants to know what's happening, she wants to be there for me......she says stuff Nance......it's like she _KNOWS_......it's weird, spooky almost.....she feels him......like you do......it's the same connection.....she's only three for fucks sake......"

"She's a Tucker.....more so than the boys." Nancy smiled. 

"Well, I think James might be more like Malc.....but Robbie is a Cassidy.....no doubt about that....... "

"Grace is sensitive......she picks up on stuff.......that's what Malc was like as a child.......exactly the same. He knew what was going on between Mam and Da......he knew things weren't right, he was very protective of Mam......and me, for that matter. He took a lot on himself at a very young age....Grace sounds the same."

Sam had drifted off, and seemed to no longer be listening....

"I'm hoping once the bad weather dies down, they'll be able to look more thoroughly.  
They have a Sea-King helicopter on standby......waiting to take off.....if the wind would just fucking calm down a little......"

Nancy tightened her grip on Sam's hands. 

"Well, it has to at some point, it can't blow like this forever. I'm glad you rang me yesterday Hen....I'm here for you, okay? I'll help you with the kids, take them out for you, keep them occupied, I'll help in any way I can....."

"Bless you Nance.....really.....thank you" Sam reached out and squeezed her sister-in-law's hand warmly in return.

The noise of a car was heard outside. 

"Here's Ellie, back with the kids. She'll be pleased to see you." 

oOo

Ellie had taken herself off for a lie down, to rest and put her feet up. 

The kids were amusing themselves. 

An unexpected knock came on the cottage door. 

As now happened every time the phone rang or a knock came on the door, Sam froze.  
Could this be news?  
Her heart pounding. She felt suddenly nauseous. 

_'Oh God! Had they been found.....?'_

Nancy looked up. 

"I'll get it." She said. 

Opening the door, she was confronted by a reporter, with a cameraman. 

"Mrs Tucker?"

"Who wants to know?" 

Malcolm's sister was every bit as wily and clever as her infamous brother, no one was going to be pulling the wool over her eyes! 

"Alexander McCrae from The Scottish Herald......may we come in?" 

Sam rose, appearing behind her sister-in-law's shoulder.

"Who is it?" She asked, peering around her friend. 

"Ah! Samantha Tucker isn't it?" The man instantly dismissed Nancy, brushing her aside, as he recognised Sam from previous press articles. "We wondered if we could do a piece.....on your husband.....you know _'Missing!' 'Lost at Sea'_ that sort of thing.......it'll be good publicity.....might help find him....." 

Sam scowled. 

"Fuck off!" She snapped. "You're not at all interested in finding my husband.....you're interested in how many papers you can sell.....by printing sensationalist garbage......"

Nancy stifled a grin. 

"Now don't be like that Sam.....may I call you Sam?"

Sam's eyes widened with fury. 

"No you may not! You're not my best friend....like I say....fuck off and leave us alone....."

"But hear me out. The article could help you......it'll be distributed all over Scotland.....it'll be on your terms.....nothing printed without your say so......."

Sam hesitated. Nancy whispered into her ear. 

"It might help get the word out, a lot of people take the Herald round here.....as long as they print nothing without your permission......" 

"Wouldn't you want to explore every avenue possible......?" The journalist smiled benignly. 

Sam demurred.

"I'd have to ask Mrs McDonald....." 

She stepped back slightly. "If she agrees, then we'll grant a brief interview.....but no pictures here, and my children do NOT appear in the press.....am I understood?"

"Anything you say love......anything you say."

"Right, well, you can start by not calling me _'love'_." 

Moving aside, she allowed the two men to enter. 

"I'll go and speak to Mrs McDonald. She's resting. This is Mr Tucker's sister....." Sam indicated Nancy. ".....she'll take care of you while I'm gone....I'll not be long." 

Sam left the reporters in Nancy's more than capable hands. 

oOo

Seated around the lounge, the three women were nothing less than intimidating. Particularly Nancy, who glared at the two newspapermen with ill disguised distain. 

"We should get a picture of the three of you...... _'the women who wait for news'_ it's a great angle....."

"No!" Said Sam flatly. "I said no pictures....."

"But what about the kiddies?.....I can hear them.....it's the sort of thing the readers love, a story from the point of view of the wife and bairns......"

Sam rose to her feet. 

"We're done here." She stated firmly. "I'll show you out." 

McCrae sighed. Resigned. 

"Okay. We play it your way......tell us the story........"

Sam Tucker resumed her seat, hands held in her lap primly. Ellie sitting close beside her, eying him warily. 

If the pressmen were expecting a weak and weeping housewife, they were to be sadly mistaken. 

Mrs Samantha Tucker was strength and resolve personified.  
It was she who called the shots, did all the talking. More than five years working alongside Malcolm in the political arena, had taught her all she needed to know.  
He knew how to handle the press, she had learned from him every day, even if she'd not been aware of it. 

Appearing vulnerable was what they loved. Any chink in the armour would be exploited. Give them an inch and they'd take a mile. Sam had seen and heard it all. She witnessed Malcolm, so many times, he knew just how to mould them to his wishes, by careful wording and gentle intimidation, how to threaten just enough to show who was boss. 

Together the two wives told how their men set off, and when, and where they were headed. 

Facts. 

Pure and simple. 

"Am I allowed to put in a little history......? I mean.....this is _THE_ Malcolm Tucker......notorious..... _'Iago with a Blackberry'_ I believe he was once referred to as......" 

Sam huffed with annoyance. 

"I don't mind a passing reference to our time at Number Ten. Purely as background. Or our stint in opposition for that matter, providing you make it quite clear that Malcolm was exonerated completely from what happened later.....at The Goolding Enquiry. If you must mention that at all.  
But it isn't about our past.....it's about now......and the fact that my husband is missing.....if you print a load of cobblers about the _'ex spin doctor'_ shite or if you rake up any dirt......or anything in anyway derogatory, I'll be onto my lawyer within the hour. You'll have heard of Greg Fraser I assume?"

"Shit.....yeah......I've heard of him......."

"Good! Then I need say no more......my husband....... _OUR HUSBANDS_....." Sam reached to clasp Ellie's hand,  
".......are missing, Mr McCrae....we are worried sick......this isn't about your readers, or your sales, or anything else....it's about our lives, our family......you mess with that and you'll stir up a nasty hornet's nest, and the person to be stung will be you.  
Myself, and Malcolm's sister here, and Mrs McDonald.....will rain down on you like a hail of shit if there's anything in your article not said by one of us......I warn you.....you'll never fucking work in journalism again.....Malcolm has an awful lot of powerful friends and contacts in the business.....so has Jamie.  
So....just be sure you print the truth.....and be sure it's a humanitarian story, not a sensationalist one.....or else!"

"Fuck me! You drive a hard bargain Mrs T.....being married to Malcolm Tucker has made you hateful of the press!"

"On the contrary, it's made me realise how people in the media work. I know what the press is capable of Mr McCrae.....I know what lies they tell, what stories they make up, how they put words into people's mouths, how facts are twisted, and misconstrued. I know the meaning of the word _'clickbait'_ and you won't make my family into that.  
I know, probably more than you do, the power of the press......but I also know how to use it to my advantage. I learned from the best teacher.....so.....you play the game my way......and when they're found.....I'll give you an exclusive...... _'how I got my husband back'_......pictures included....what do you say?"

McCrae's eyes widened. 

"Really? Fuck! I mean........right.....um.....okay then.....we'll play it your way......to the letter, I mean, you should say _'if'_ they're found......"

"No! Mr McCrae. Not if. _'WHEN'_........ _when they are found_.......an exclusive.....do we have a deal?"

The reporter held out his hand to shake. 

"We do!" He replied. "A pleasure talking with you Mrs Tucker!"

"When will this article appear?" Ellie asked.

"It'll be in this evening's edition.....are there some stock photos you won't mind me using?"

"There are. Malcolm's publisher will give you the link. Mr. McDonald has one on his website."

"Goodbye Mrs Tucker.....Mrs McDonald......Mrs......" 

Nancy showed the pair to the door without ceremony, then returned to the living room. 

"Well fuck me!" She declared. "That was interesting! Jesus, Sam.....you're like Genghis fucking Khan....talk about ruthless!"

Sam swallowed thickly, wringing her hands. 

"Malcolm is gonna fucking kill me!"


	15. Resignation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is beginning to falter......the strain is beginning to show......

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.  
RESIGNATION. 

_Friday morning......_

If Malcolm hoped that the morning would bring a lull he was to be sadly disappointed. 

He actually slept reasonably well in spite of a gnawing feeling in his stomach, which short rations did nothing to assuage. 

The fire had burned low, although the embers were still bright. 

Pulling on his windcheater, he sallied forth into the morning mist to gather new wood supplies. 

Jamie was still curled where he left him when he returned. 

His friend opened one eye. 

"Still raining?" He enquired croakily, although from the saturated state of Malcolm, he already knew the response.

"If something doesn't happen by the end of today, I'm making a decision." He replied, throwing the pile of wood down beside the old tiled fireplace with venom. 

He looked hunched over. Dirty and dishevelled. His hair a grey doormat. A thick stubbly beard, which made him resemble an angry schnauzer.  
His eyes were bright and keen however, there was a fierceness in them, mirrored in the set of his jaw. 

"If I leave it much longer I'll be too weak and half starved to manage the dinghy."

Jamie sat up, deep concern on his face. 

"Mate.....you can't sail that small Pudgy in this appalling weather. You'd be swept out through the Corryvreckan and into the Atlantic....it's fucking madness......and I won't let you do it."

" _YOU_ won't?" Malcolm snapped. "What can you do to stop me......?"

His comrade struggled to his feet, crossing the room, putting his good arm around Malcolm's shoulder. 

"Malcy.....please.....for fucks sake.....listen to reason....."

The older man diminished. Shrugging off the comforting hand. 

"Don't fucking call me Malcy." He grumbled. 

"Okay...... _MISTER_ Tucker......listen to me....it's not unusual for these storms to roar through over a couple of days, or even three.....but they blow themselves out eventually. .....we've just got to sit it out and wait for help to come.....have you tried turning your phone back on?"

"No.....I haven't, I've been trying it once a day.....to save the battery.....but there's nothing......"

"Well, try it again. If the depression has weakened even slightly it may be enough to bring the GPS signal back.....so that it enables a fix.....they'll be checking it......bound to......"

Malcolm sat himself on the floor, poking at the fire with a lump of driftwood, which made it crackle and spit aggressively. 

"I want to go home." He muttered simply. 

"I know mate, me too." His friend crouched sympathetically by his side. 

"I want my Sam and I want my kids......." His eyes watered in spite of his efforts to keep himself together. "......I'm _tired_." He ended, flatly. 

"Try your phone......switch it on....." Jamie suggested encouragingly, his hand resting gently on Malcolm's sleeve. 

Reaching into his pocket, Malcolm took out the mobile. All the apps were closed down, nothing superfluous enabled that might drain the precious battery. 

To his surprise, the GPS symbol appeared, although it flickered on and off as he watched the screen. 

"Fuck! It's working.....at least, it's coming and going......." His eyes glittered as he watched the display fade. 

"Maybe leave it on for an hour or so. Then we'll see what the weather does as the day goes on.....but please Malc.....no more talk of trying to sail the dinghy.....it's fucking mental.....okay?"

His friend shrugged his shoulders but didn't reply. 

oOo

By late afternoon there was a definite break in the storm. 

The rain finally stopped. 

Oh frabjous day! 

Malcolm heated the last of the tins of soup for them both. Dipping into it the remaining crusts of dry bread. 

They were down to reused teabags, biscuits and energy bars now. 

Jamie was sleeping again. 

It had not escaped Malcolm's notice that he seemed to have developed a slight cough and a fever.  
Malcolm woke him gently with hot tea. 

"Here pal, drink this, and take a couple of these aspirin....K....?"

Jamie sat forward feebly. 

"Thanks Malc." He whispered. 

At first it had been no more a tickle in his throat, and a snotty nose, but now it was worse. 

Each time he hacked, it caused him pain, so he would cough, then make a noise as it hit him, holding his bad arm and his ribs with his good hand.  
He'd hardly moved all day. Seemingly unable. Although he never complained.  
Stoic in his misery.  
Malcolm did what he could to keep him warm and comfortable.  
But he was becoming increasingly concerned. 

They needed to get off this fucking island. 

oOo

Evening fell slowly. 

The light fading into a melting softness which only Scotland could provide. 

Malcolm sat himself at the doorway to the bothy. 

His phone in his hand. It was staying on now. Until the battery died, whatever happened. 

Staring out across the wild seascape. 

The channel between Scarba and Jura still boiled, rippling and churning with frightening speed. A sharp cross-wind blew, seemingly from more than one direction.  
Jura itself hung on the horizon, suspended in a ghostly mist. Dark and foreboding, almost sinister. Occasionally he could see a light or two twinkling, perhaps from a dwelling on that side. 

It seemed a very long way away. 

Although in reality the distance was small. 

Clouds above his head were still dark and angry, black tinged edges amongst the slate grey.  
They seemed to tumble and swirl across the sky like a clear puddle being stirred into muddiness with a bent stick. 

Around him the howling wind buffeted. But no longer pummelling his body so hard, whipping his clothes and hair. 

A little more benign. 

The turbulent dragon was becoming sleepy.......losing its power. 

Malcolm's eyes narrowed as he sipped his hot weak tea and scanned the bleak vista in front of him. 

From the bothy door the land sloped downwards, boggy, heather strewn, towards the beach where they had been washed ashore. 

On the other side of the island.....although Malcolm didn't know where or how far, was a lodge house and a small concrete jetty, where the stalking parties stayed and were put ashore by local boatmen.  
He guessed the little pony tracks he'd spotted through the tussocky grass were made by the deer, and perhaps the occasional visitor. Although he never saw hide nor hair of the herd.

A sigh left him, as he resigned himself to yet another night here. 

The strain was beginning to tell. 

His anger had been replaced by longing......he was bone tired.  
Weary of it all.  
He ached for his wife, his kids....he wanted to feel warm and properly dry. 

He wanted a big bowl of Sam's spag bol. 

Draining his cup he slung the dregs against the wall and hauled himself to his feet. 

It would be dark soon. Pitch black. Another day drew to a close.

Going back inside he closed the door tight, shutting out the night. 

oOo

Settling down to sleep, curled against his pal once more, he closed his eyes. 

Jamie felt hot. 

Sweaty. Yet clammy. His cough now tight, his chest sore.

Malcolm held him close. 

He was scared. 

Very frightened indeed. 

Because he knew......Jamie was not well. 

"You okay there mate?" He whispered. 

"Yeah. Just can't seem to get warm....." Came the reply. 

Rising, his comrade banked the fire up till it blazed brightly, lighting up the room. He then shifted the mattress closer.

"Better?" He asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Come here to me."

Jamie shuffled closer.

They slept. 

oOo

It was in the early hours that Malcolm came to.....

Jamie was shivering against him. Teeth chattering. 

Rising, Malcolm fetched him more aspirin and a hot drink from the Thermos. 

Laying down again at his side, pulling him back into a comforting embrace. 

"Malcy?" 

"What is it.....?" 

"I'm really sorry."

"What? What for.....?"

"For getting you into this mess.......for being such a bother.....please forgive me....."

Malcolm's hand moved to Jamie's head and began to stroke gently. The hair was wet with perspiration. He felt his friend relax into the feel of those fingers, letting out a puff of relief. 

"Don't be a daft cunt. It's not your fucking fault. Listen! Don't you go all maudlin on me, okay.....we'll be alright.....and I told you, we're friends......brothers.....we always will be......always.....right? Go back to sleep!"

"Yeah. Right. Just fucking bad luck.....coulda happened to anyone......yeah?"

A pause. 

"Malc?"

"What now?"

"I wanna talk. I never told you.......why I left the seminary.....I never told anyone......"

"What is this? Fucking confession time now?" 

"I wanna tell you......will you hear me.....?"

Malcolm stilled his hand, sitting forward slightly, the red glow of the fire lighting his best mate's grey weary face. 

"I'm listening........"

His hand resumed its motion, and Jamie gave a small convulsive sob. 

"Just keep doin' that.....will you mate? Just feels good.......like you care.....y'know....?"

"I do fucking care you arse! You know I do! What the fuck happened to you in that place for Christ's sake? Why'd you leave so sudden?"

Jamie took a deep and painful breath. 

"Lost my faith.....I couldn't see God in that place, but I saw so many other things Malc......bad things.....things I shut out......corruption, manipulation, cheating, lying, abuse.....you name it......"

"That figures......it's The Church......why do you think I'm now an atheist? All these things.....done in the name of a benevolent and merciful God.....fuck me.....it's sickening."

"But there was this girl......I used to see her each day when we went for classes. She was beautiful, and I kept on seeing her Malc.....all the time, bumping into her, y'know? Seemed like everywhere I went, there she was. I tried to not think about it, told my priest." 

"What'd he say?"

"Told me to _'get it out of my system'_ like....you know....with my hand........but it didn't seem to make much difference. Then one day I went on an errand, and she was there. She stopped me. We got talking. I tried Malc....I really tried.....after that we'd meet up, regularly. I couldn't think about anything else. The first time we kissed I was so pent up I almost came. Fuck, it was terrible. The _guilt_. I went to confession, every day.....punished myself till I couldn't stand it any longer......then the priest said he'd do it......"

"What the fuck? You didn't let him did you....? They're not allowed to do that! It's positively Medieval. Fuck me! The hypocritical cunt." 

Jamie was silent, just a hitching sob every so often, punctuated by coughing.

"I let him.....I welcomed it.....because I thought it was right....I thought I was a bad person......sinful.....but I couldn't take it.....he enjoyed it far too much Malc.....I could see that.....I knew it was wrong and the feelings I had weren't. They were natural, pure.....not sinful at all........so I got myself out......"

"Fucking hell mate. No wonder you left. I'm so sorry that happened to you......really........really sorry.  
Must o' bin terrible. And you never told anybody?"

"Nope. Not even Ellie knows. Because I'm a fucking coward.....no one would have believed me at the time anyway.....I was too young, too scared......I just wanted to get out of it and get on with my life.....and I did....it's all come out since.....the place closed down.....I was relieved, but I never came forward......just wanted to forget about it......my sin was that I fell in love......you remember Karen....?"

Malcolm chuckled. 

"Yeah, I remember Karen......pretty wee lass.....you _SO_ weren't meant for the priesthood mate! Celibacy was never gonna cut it with you.....I don't mean that in a bad way.......but you liked lassies.....you always did......and for what it's worth, they liked you too.....Nancy was in love with you from the age of 7 for fucks sake! Christ....I remember that other girl who fancied you....in the fifth year......fucking mental cow.....what was her name?"

Jamie laughed, but then began a fresh bout of coughing, taking a few moments to regain his wheezing breath.

"You alright there.....don't you cough your ring up on me you wanker....these are the last dry clothes I've got!"

"Her name was Fiona......she was the punk rocker......"

"FIONA!! That's it! Fuck me....she was a goer......doing the Po-Go......down The Hellfire Club......Jesus Christ.....she was a raving lunatic......."

"'Frantic Fiona'......."

"YES!!! That was it!! What a raver! She thought you were the best thing since sliced bread.....daft woman.....all over you like a rash she was. We went to that house party.....'member that?  
Pished as farts.  
All I could see of you were the soles of your fucking shoes.....she was on top of you on the sofa with her tongue down your throat...."

"God! Yeah.....and she smoked _Gauloises_.......with no filter......thought it made her look sophisticated, but she smelled like the inside of a caber tosser's jock strap......"

Now it was Malcolm's turn to burst into a choking laugh. 

"Those were the days, eh mate.....? Fucking hell. What we didn't get up to!"

"You were a bad influence, being older than me......your mates were all nutters......that lairy yobbo you used to muck about with, the one with the orange hair. Always steemin'. Played in a band......"

"Billy." 

"Aye." Jamie nodded sagely. 

"He fancied me!"

"For fucks sake Malc! What is it with you and blokes? Hang on.....weren't you goin' out with that posh bird from Bearsden, then......Cassandra....."

"Oh, bloody hell. Don't remind me! Her Da fucking hated ma guts.....called me a slimy Jacobite.....I ask you! Wanker.....an' he was a fucking Rangers supporter!  
Yeah.....well, Billy got all jealous.....said I bin leadin' him on....fuck knows how! I'd bin seeing Cass for six months! Mind you, he had issues....and I don't mean the gay thing....he had problems......he was right fucked up......drugs and stuff.....not my scene I'm afraid."

"I heard he carked it....."

"Yeah. About three years later. I'd left for The Big Smoke by then.....he took an overdose....poor bastard. Tragic." 

"Malcolm?"

"What is it now man?"

"I don't feel so good."

"Whisht......mate....you're alright, just a bit of a chill is all."

"So cold! Hold me, will ye?"

"I dunno! You'd do fucking anythin' to get a cuddle off me eh?"

"Feel like I'm dying.....ma chest hurts....."

"Will you fucking well stop sayin' stuff like that, you cunt.....you're no' goin' anywhere on my watch.....y'hear me? It'll be light soon, someone'll come today.....I know it.....you just gotta hang on.....fight it.....yeah?"

"Okay Malcy.....I'll sleep now, I'm that knackered."

oOo

Malcolm was dreaming. 

He was lying stretched out in his bed at home. Warm, comfortable.  
It was time to get up, but he didn't want to.  
From somewhere downstairs he could hear machinery. 

Like the buzz of a coffee bean grinder or a blender. 

Then, a little voice spoke quite close to his head. 

_"Daddy! Wake up......you need to wake up now."_

Malcolm unstuck his eyes reluctantly, rubbing them with a knuckle. 

A small cloud headed girl....his beloved Grace. 

Standing beside the bed. Looking very grave and serious. 

"What's up sweetie?" He said, reaching out a hand for hers. 

_"Get up Daddy. NOW! I need you."_ She whispered, her face suddenly crumpling into tears. 

Malcolm was suddenly wide awake. The vision blurred and faded. 

Confused for a second. 

Jamie was still and silent beside him, drenched through with sweat. 

The noise he'd heard in the dream was still there. 

It was outside. 

Through the window he could see it was early. First light. 

The sky to the east, pale and washed clean. 

In a flurry Malcolm was up, crossing the room and wrenching open the door. 

It was mercifully dry, but the wind was still strong, still blowing from all directions it seemed, but the sound he could hear was unmistakable.

The rotors of a helicopter. 

Without thinking he began to run down towards the shoreline.  
Looking up as he did so. 

Heedless that he might break an ankle on the rocks as he wasn't looking where he was going. 

Trying to spot where the sound was coming from. 

He could see it. 

It was some way away, but looked to be working it's way along the Jura side of the coastline. 

A huge Sea-King. 

Malcolm was euphoric. 

He began to shout with all the strength in his lungs. Waving frantically. 

But the rotors chugged on. Moving away from him and around the tip of the island, looking as if it were heading back the way it came. 

"NO! NO! COME BACK......FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK!" 

He scrambled down to the beach, screaming now. 

The helicopter wheeled away. 

His mind suddenly cleared. No way they'd possibly hear him even if he had a loud hailer. What the fuck was he thinking? Stupid arse! 

Turning, he raced back to the bothy. Barrelling inside. 

Ripping the duffle bags open he began hurling things aside, searching manically. 

Jamie had woken up with the cold blast of air upon him coming through the open door. 

"Malc....." He whispered feebly. "I feel like shit......." 

"Well, you _look_ like shit! There's a fucking helicopter...... _WHERE THE FUCK IS THE FLARE GUN?"_ He cried in response, almost crazed with desperate emotion. 

"There!" His friend pointed to the mantle. 

"FUCK!" 

Seizing it, Malcolm bolted for the door. 

He could still hear and see the machine. Clattering away from him, along the farthest shore. 

Releasing the catch, he pointed the gun above his head and fired the one remaining cartridge. 

It soared away, with a crack, up into the turbulent sky. High and bright and proud. 

Hovering there, flaring red, burning. Before fizzling and sputtering, sinking slowly back to earth.  
Dying away.

Malcolm fell to his knees. 

"Please God......if you _are_ fucking there.......please......just let them see it......not for me......but for Jamie.....he's ill.......just let them come........please.....and I swear......that's you and me quits...." 

For several agonising moments he watched, as hope died in his heart. 

Then, the great beast seemed to bank steeply, and began to turn its snub nose towards him.


	16. Only One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Ellie receive a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the exchanges between the helicopter/Lifeboat station /coastguard don't sound too contrived. I agonised over whether to put them in, and decided I would. But I hope it has a ring of the genuine about it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.  
ONLY ONE.

_Friday night/Saturday morning....._

Sam and Nancy sat far into the night, whilst Ellie slept, worn out with trying to stay strong. 

They talked of Malcolm. 

Everything his sister could remember. All the scraped knees, the smacked arses, the stupid pranks. 

They laughed and they cried in equal measure, a glass of single malt beside them. 

It was in the early hours when the phone began to ring. 

Both women had fallen asleep in the armchairs beside the fire, which was now no more than glowing embers. 

Sam opened her eyes to Nancy's expectant tone as she grabbed the phone. 

Listening groggily to the man at the other end. Her face a mixture of emotion. 

Looking up she saw the despairing gaze of Sam's hazel eyes, her eyebrows raised in mute question. 

"What's happened?" She asked, her voice so quiet, as if she could hardly bear to hear the reply. 

Nancy didn't answer, but handed the phone to her sister-in-law with an encouraging nod. 

_"Coastguard._ " She whispered. 

She saw Sam swallow hard, taking in a deep breath before she took the receiver, her hand shaking. 

"Mrs Tucker speaking......"

"Mrs Tucker, this is the Coastguard. We've been receiving a broken mobile phone signal on and off, somewhere off the Jura coast. Now listen......don't get too excited.......but it's something.....okay? And I thought you should know."

Sam listened. Computing with difficulty. 

"Right....." She said, slowly. ".......so what happens now......?"

"Well, we can't get a fix, and it's a large area.....but the wind has dropped enough to get the chopper up.......the Islay lifeboat still can't launch, but the helicopter pilot thinks it'll be okay......he's a gung-ho bastard, and he's flown in these conditions before.......so we're gonna try anyway.....as soon as it's light."

A tear formed on Sam's lashes which she ignored. Nancy stood close to her, with her ear to the receiver too, hoping to catch what was being said at the other end. 

"We'll be taking off from Stornaway, and heading down towards you. I suggest you get yourselves down to the lifeboat station at Oban.....they're on standby......ready to launch if they're needed....they're a larger boat, better in these conditions.....but it depends where.....and what.....if anything......we find. But you'll be able to listen in over the radio and hear what's going on.......alright Mrs Tucker.......?"

"Yes.....right.....we'll do that, we'll leave now, straight away....um......right....." Sam looked about her, flustered. 

"Mrs Tucker.....are you still there?"

"Yes....." Sam held herself together with a Herculean effort. 

"Take your time. Have a coffee......then make your way down. You know where you're going?"

"Yes, I know where it is...."

"Okay, they'll be waiting for you. Don't get your hopes up too much, just keep calm and breathe....."

"I will. Thank you......bye......."

Nancy took the receiver and replaced it. Gathering her friend into a tight hug, as she sucked in breath after breath. 

"You go wake Ellie.....I'll stay with the children.....you can keep me informed......it'll be alright Sam.....trust me." 

Grace appeared suddenly at the door. Sleepily rubbing her eyes. 

"I heard the phone......have they found Daddy?" She asked, yawning.

Sam gathered her daughter into her arms. 

"Not yet sweetheart, but mummy is going to the Lifeboat station, they're going to get a helicopter to search for Daddy and Uncle Jamie."

"Can I come?"

"No darling. But here's what I want you to do. I want you to go back to bed, and think about Daddy. Just think about him, tell him you love him, and go back to sleep. Auntie Nance will let you know anything that happens......okay?"

"Okay Mummy....I love you."

"I love you too angel."

Nancy took the little girl's hand. 

"Come on, lassie, lets get you back to bed. So mummy can wake Auntie Ellie."

oOo

The office at the lifeboat station was a hub of activity; computers, telephones, and screens in a bank all along the desk, winking and changing every few moments as the weather reports were updated. 

A map for the area covered repeatedly scrolled itself, renewing. Giving the positions of various vessels. 

Apparently, the two women were informed, there were several other yachts and small craft that had been caught out by this sudden weather system. 

'Rainbow' was not alone. 

Some had managed to make it to safety, some had not.  
Another crew had been wrecked, one member of whom was plucked from the waves, by the Islay lifeboat, which had put to sea in spite of the terrible conditions, the others, it was clear, didn't make it.  
Eventually they'd been forced to turn for home. 

The statistics were pinned on a wipe board on the wall, and Sam kept her eyes resolutely away from it. 

Seated in front of the screens were two operators, wearing head sets with mics in place. 

Calm and assured. Professional people. Doing their job. 

Sam couldn't help but be impressed. 

The crackle and noise from the helicopter exchanges could be heard clearly. 

Ellie and Sam were white faced. Pinched with the strain and worry. 

The two were given a hot drink, and settled themselves to play the waiting game. 

Something at which they were both, by now, quite adept. 

"What was the telephone number of the signal you picked up...?" Sam asked tentatively. 

Checking the screen, the operative indicated the readout. 

"That's Malcolm's." She said, flatly. Glancing at Ellie almost apologetically. 

Inside, her heart was hammering.

The transmission between the men in the air and those on the ground was appalling.  
After every other word, the signal seemed to break up, or the sound faded in and out. 

It was both frustrating and terrifying at the same time. 

Outside the sky was beginning to lighten on this Saturday morning. 

Sam gathered from the monitor and the exchanges between pilot and Coastguard, that the chopper was moving its way along the Jura shoreline, hugging close to the coast, then sweeping outwards over the sea, moving in a grid pattern, the best to search the entire area, without missing anything or anyone. 

Time moved so slowly. 

Back and forth in amongst the broken messages she heard....

 _"Nothing here......over......grid reference 142 completed."_

_"Roger, Golf Bravo Tango 323. Check. Over."_

_"No wreckage or sign of life seen. Over."_

This went on for some time, until Sam thought she might actually burst with emotion. 

Then......

_"Golf Bravo Tango 323.....grid 144 completed.......will be returning to base to refuel shortly."_

Then a pause......

_"Golf Bravo Tango 323 to Oban Lifeboat.....over."_

_"Oban Lifeboat to Golf Bravo Tango 323, receiving you loud and clear. Over."_

_"Oban Lifeboat. Distress flare sighted. Distress flare sighted. Grid reference......"_

The reception petered out momentarily as Sam unconsciously reached for Ellie's hand. 

A scurr of white noise followed, before the signal returned. 

_"This is Golf Bravo Tango 323, are you receiving me.....over?_

_"We have sighted lone male. I repeat. Lone male."_

_"Scarba Island. I'll give you coordinates....."_

Sam clasped her hands over her mouth, as the numbers were checked off and repeated.  
She didn't want to say it, nor yet even think it.  
It was Malcolm.....it had to be......but he was alone.....had he made it and Jamie hadn't? 

Her fear now was so great that it was almost unbearable.  
Ellie began weeping silently beside her. 

_"Oban Lifeboat. I have enough fuel for one pass, repeat one pass. I'll try to get in close, but the cross winds aren't liking it. Don't think I can land but I might be able to drop a man off or pick up......over."_

_"Roger that. Golf Bravo Tango 323."_

It was at that moment that the radio seemed to cut out completely. 

In spite of every effort, all that could be heard was static. 

"Oh God!" Sam whispered. 

"Come and sit down love.....it'll come back in a minute....it's been like this all frickin day.....this lousy weather....."

Samantha Tucker allowed herself to be led to a chair and seated. Ellie beside her. 

She could hear the operator making various attempts to reestablish the connection, without luck. 

It was almost half an hour before the radio sparked suddenly into life. 

_"Golf Bravo Tango 323 to Oban Lifeboat.....over. On route to Lorn and Islands Hospital. One male survivor aboard. Will return to refuel......"_

Before the message was completed, the radio died again. 

Ellie stood up. 

"We must go the hospital.......so we're there when the chopper arrives......I want to be there." 

She seemed numb, almost resigned. Her face desolate. 

"I'll drive you......" One of the RNLI staff offered. 

"Thank you." Sam gave a tight smile. "You're so kind."

Reaching into her pocket for her phone she sent a text to Nancy. 

_"On route to Oban Hosp. Chopper has rescued Malcolm.......it was his phone signal they picked up.  
Don't come yet, till I know it's okay for the kids to come. I'll text again soon as I can. Sam xx"_

The reply pinged back almost immediately. 

_"Okay darling. Don't worry, Malc will be okay. Let me know what's happening when you know. Kids are fine. Don't worry about them. What about Jamie???? Nance. Xx"_

The response was short. 

_"Don't know. Said only one survivor. I can't even think straight. Sam.x"_

Sitting back against the car headrest, Sam closed her eyes. 

How would she ever look her best friend in the eye again if Jamie hadn't survived and Malcolm had?

Her mind was a turmoil of terrifying thoughts. 

Seeing her husband again, and the potential relief of that moment. But the devastation for her friend. Ellie's unborn baby. Her own children. Little Jess.  
All whirling around inside her head. 

Sitting together in reception they waited. 

The clattering of the Sea-King's rotor blades could finally be heard in the distance. 

Sam could hardly breathe with anticipation. She felt physically sick. 

Only some ten minutes later, the doors to the A&E department swung open, and a trolley was wheeled in. 

There was a brief moment of shock. Sam could see in a single second that the visible head was not Malcolm's. 

She would know his slate grey pate anywhere. 

Instead she saw matted brown curls. Stubbly beard. A mask over the face and an IV line leading to a saline bottle by the side. 

Looking like death.

She clutched at the wall, as her friend surged forward, as she too realised who it was.

An almost bestial howl left Sam, as she sank to the floor in utter despair. 

Staff rushed to aid her. 

Ellie began first to walk, then to run passed her stricken friend, reaching the side of the wheeled stretcher, looking down into the pinched and exhausted, yet familiar face. 

"Oh God! Oh my God!" She cried out, in recognition. 

Turning back, her weeping eyes met Sam's broken and haunted stare......

"It's not Malcolm....it's Jamie!"


	17. The Lone Ranger.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue has come......but not quite in the way Malcolm expects.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.  
THE LONE RANGER.

Malcolm watched the snub nose of the helicopter turn and come towards him, his hands held up, shielding his eyes. As it drew closer he began to run back towards the bothy. Stumbling over the wet ground, gesticulating as he ran.

It was almost above him now, the downdraft ripping at his hair and clothes, but he kept moving, bent over at the knees, head down, waving an arm for them to follow him. 

"What the fuck is the lairy bastard doing?" 

The pilot was frustrated by the buffeting cross wind, which seemed to catch the chopper unawares at any given moment, almost forcing it to one side. 

"Don't look like he wants to be rescued!" His Number two remarked. 

"I can't fucking land anywhere here......it's too boggy, and uneven......and far too risky......"

Malcolm had reached the cottage by now and disappeared inside. 

Jamie lay prostrate on the floor. 

In a bad way. 

Barely able to communicate now, as he shivered uncontrollably. 

Malcolm wasted no time. 

He wasn't even sure where the strength came from, but he hauled his partner up, half across his own body. One hand around his back, the other firmly under his knees. 

"Come on sunshine......we're getting outa here.......you hear me Jamie?"

His friend's response was a groan of pain and anguish. 

"You just fucking hang on.....don't you dare die on me now you ungrateful cunt!"

Malcolm kicked open the door and staggered outside with his burden. 

"Christ Almighty! There's two of them.......Jesus......Mike.....you'll have to be lowered, with the stretcher......I've only got time to do it once......tell the other guy we'll send the lifeboat for him......hurry man for fucks sake......or we'll all end up splattered on the side of the hill.... holding Her here is a fucking nightmare......"

The pilot's colleague sprung into action. He could hear the engine struggling with the repeated buffeting of the wind. 

From the bay door he was lowered on a winch, by the third crew member, a taut wire.....with man and stretcher attached. 

Malcolm laid his friend on the ground and ran to catch the base as it came within reach. 

A hasty, yelled conversation ensued, over the clattering sound of the rotors and the whipping downdraft from the machine. 

"We're low on fuel......pilot says we'll take this guy off....make for Oban......we're in contact with the lifeboat there. We'll send them to you. By the time we get to the hospital, refuel and come back, the RNLI will have reached you......just hang tight mate.....okay......it'll only be a few hours......"

"You're fucking kidding?" Malcolm was incredulous, his delirious happiness at the prospect of rescue, cruelly dashed. However he knew that Jamie needed help far more than he did.  
"Okay.....never mind me......take him.......make sure you take fucking good care of him.....he's hurt bad, and I think he's got pneumonia......"

"Pack all your gear up.....stick it all in the dinghy......it can be towed back.....good luck mate.....see you back in a few hours......"

Malcolm was handed a thick thermal puffa jacket which resembled a navy blue duvet, and a radio.  
The winch began to turn again with a wobble. 

He watched the stretcher rise slowly, spinning precariously in the wind as the chopper struggled desperately to stay both still and level. The pilot wrestling with the machine the whole time.  
His friend was drawn inside the belly of the great beast, and the door closed. 

The mighty bird wheeled away, banking sharply and heading off towards the Sound of Luing. 

Gradually the wind from its whirling blades ceased, the engine noise died away. 

Malcolm was alone. 

oOo

The silence was deafening. 

Especially after the roar of the Sea-King. 

Malcolm stood, eyes narrowed, watching as it became no more that a black dot, before disappearing from his vision completely. 

He could have broken down. 

Wept. 

Wept with relief, and joy, and all the mixture of other emotions he was feeling. 

He didn't. 

Instead, he tilted his head back, looking up to the sky. 

Took a few deep breaths. 

Lifted his shoulders, then dropped them. 

Closing his eyes, he murmured. 

"Thank you. Now we're quits. No more.....okay? No fucking more." 

Pausing only to don the thermal coat, he turned away, returning slowly to the bothy.  
Methodically he began collecting the detritus of the last three days. 

Stuffing everything into the duffle bags. 

In the grate, the fire had gone out. He'd not had time since first light to bank it up again. Poking through the last embers with a piece of wood, he left the ashes to cool. 

With his friend gone, Malcolm felt empty to the core. Not another living soul for miles.  
Just him. He longed for his wife and children more than ever. 

Shaking his head he tried his best to banish the thoughts. 

"Come on Malc....you've lasted this long......it's almost fucking over now.....just keep it together....."

Struggling down to the beach, he turned the Pudgy keel uppermost, packed the gear inside and stretched the orange waterproof coverings over the whole lot. 

Then he sat down on his bottom on the damp shingle, with the radio, to wait. 

The sky from the East had cleared as the morning progressed. Patches of blue appeared. 

Although the wind still blew strongly, it was less fierce now. 

As he waited Malcolm began to reflect. 

His thoughts were with Sam. His children. His best friend. 

How lucky he was to be alive. 

It had been a close run thing. 

Rubbing a hand through his grey beard, he scanned the vista in front of him. 

It was actually stunningly beautiful. Although he'd hardly had the chance to notice up until now. A tree-less heather strewn wilderness. Wild and panoramic. 

The last days seemed like a dream, or rather a waking nightmare. 

Listening intently, he could hear nothing but the waves, the cry of seabirds, an occasional barking cry from the deer, which he'd still never even set eyes upon. 

Total solitude. 

Peace and tranquility. 

It was something that would stay with him, long, long after the experience was over. 

"Fuck that!" He cursed to himself loudly. "Give me phones and blaring sirens, kids screaming, pneumatic drills, music, laughter.....anything......if ever I crave silence again, let me remember Scarba."

Rising, he wandered along the shingle stretch. Pausing to lob a few stones into the water. 

Malcolm Tucker wasn't made to be alone. 

Not now he was so used to being surrounded by love. 

That was something he wouldn't forget in a hurry too. 

oOo

Sam sat alone too. 

In the waiting room, cradling a plastic cup of very sweet tea. 

Staring blankly at the beige wall in front of her. 

Numb. 

No tears. 

Just deep shock. 

Well, that was it. 

He was gone. 

She was never going to set eyes on him again.

No goodbyes. No closure. He had just vanished from her life. 

He _was_ her life. 

Without him, there was nothing. A void. A black hole.

Even though she had three wonderful children. 

Malcolm was the only man Samantha Cassidy had ever loved.

 _Would_ ever love. 

From first working with him, becoming friends, to the gradual realisation that he was what she wanted, had always been looking for.  
All she ever dreamt of. 

What would she do now? 

What in God's name would she tell her children, to make them understand? 

How would she break the news to Nancy? 

She would have to be strong for all of them. 

Continue. 

Fleetingly her mind wandered to her house, the home they shared, in London. 

All his things, the things which constituted their lives together, which would still be there. 

But he wouldn't be. 

Snuffed out in an instant. 

Her mind simply refused to compute it. 

It wasn't true. 

At any moment the door would open, and his head would peer round it...... _'awright there darl.....'_

Ellie had wanted to stay with her, comfort her, but she'd insisted......

"Jamie needs you, you MUST be with him......."

So here she was. 

Alone. 

Practically forgotten by everyone. 

A spare part. 

Too drained and wrung out to even cry. 

Turning her head mechanically, as the door opened with a flurry. For some reason her heart leaped.  
The thoughts she'd had only moments before were true.....here was her husband, large as life.......

Disappointment must have registered on her otherwise blank expression. As the RNLI man poked his head in, almost as an afterthought, doing a double take, then entering, with a puff of relief. 

"Mrs Tucker! There you are......I've been looking everywhere for you......"

Sam blinked stupidly at him, unable to reply. 

"My colleague has just sent a message.......you need to return to the Lifeboat Station......."

"What for? I'm waiting to hear how Mr McDonald is......his wife is with him now......"

"But what about your own husband....?" 

The rescue worker's face was quizzical, as if he couldn't understand why this woman was skulking alone in an empty reception room, when she was so needed elsewhere.....his urgency seemed to filter into her subconscious painfully slowly. 

"......they've given him a radio.......you'll be able to talk to him......I thought you'd be busting to........"

The face that looked back at him was furrowed with incomprehension. 

Seeing her evident confusion, the man sat down at her side.  
Turning her to look at him, dipping his head, eyes searching for, and holding her sorrowful gaze.  
Bringing his hands to the tops of her arms. Gripping firmly. 

"Mrs Tucker. Listen to me. The helicopter only had the briefest chance to pick up one survivor. They were low on fuel and they couldn't land because of the treacherous conditions. Your husband insisted they took his friend first, whilst he stay behind. I have to say, he's a bloody hero!  
The Oban Lifeboat is on its way to pick him up......he'll be back with you in a matter of hours......but they've given him a radio. You can talk to him.....if you come back with me......."

Sam frowned. 

"But......." she began, ".......they said _'lone male'_ and it's Jamie......he's here......my husband is......"

She couldn't bring herself to utter the word. 

"Your husband is cold and wet and tired and hungry.....but he's very much alive I assure you........and missing you like hell no doubt."

At that moment, the door was pushed back yet again, and Ellie rushed in. 

"SAM!" She cried, crossing the room to her friend, pulling her into a frenzied hug, her baby bump pressed between them. 

"Malcolm's still there......Oh Sam.......he's a bloody wonder.....he _really_ is.....Jamie's told me.......without Malcolm......Jamie'd be dead.......he took care of him.......it's a miracle......."

The reaction to all these revelations still did not seem to penetrate. Sam remained rigid in her friend's embrace. 

Distant. 

Cold almost. 

"How is Jamie?" She asked flatly. 

"He has pneumonia.....one lung....the left..... was almost completely consolidated, pleurisy set in. They've aspirated a ton of fluid, pumped him full of antibiotics.....they said a few more hours....and well, it might have been a different story.....but he'll recover.....he'll be fine......Oh Sam.....I'll _never_ be able to thank Malcolm for what he's done...... never.......never......never...." 

The Lifeboat man cut in. 

"Mrs Tucker.....I have to be getting back......are you coming with me....?"

Ellie released her friend from the crushing embrace, looking from one to the other, then understanding. 

"GOD! Yes, Sam.....you must go....right away......I'll stay here, I'll be okay.......and don't worry about Nancy. I'll ring her, give her the news.......you go......GO!" 

It was as if something inside Sam snapped, she glanced first at the eager face of her best friend, then to the encouraging, warm smile of the RNLI man. 

"Yes......" She whispered. "I'm ready......let's go then......." 

oOo

She remembered nothing of the short journey back to the lifeboat station. 

It was fully light now and the clouds had parted, a weak sun breaking through. 

The sky was washed clean, everything sharp edged, standing out clear and bright. 

Sam blinked in its light and her eyes watered. 

Ushered into the relative gloom inside, she glanced again at the screens and the computers arranged along the desk. 

One of the female operatives stood, offering her a seat. 

"Sit here Mrs Tucker, and I'll see if we can raise your husband for you." 

Carefully she placed a set of headphones over Sam's ears, before fiddling with a few buttons and speaking into her mic. 

_"Scarba. Scarba. This is Oban are you receiving me.....over....."_

There was a rustle of white noise and then a click. 

"HELLO! HELLO! Who's there? Fuck.....how do I work this draconian piece of shit......"

Hearing Malcolm's accent, his swearing, told Sam all she needed to know. 

It was _him_. 

He was alive and well, and still cursing. 

Thank God. 

"Malcolm......sweetie......it's me......" Her voice was unreliable, the tremble in it unmistakeable, but it couldn't be helped. 

"SAM! SAM!" He exploded at the other end of the line. "FUCKING FUCK ME!" He cried. 

Around the room laughter broke out, Sam's included, although her's was through tears. 

"You okay.....?" She asked, suddenly not knowing what to say. Every word she'd thought of saying to him, immediately vanishing from her mind. 

"Yeah......hungry.......how's the Wee Man.....?" 

"He's poorly, but he'll be alright.....he's got a chest full of gunk, but they caught him just in time.....he's comfortable.....they're taking good care of him......Ellie's with him......." 

"Fuck.....Sam.....I can't wait to see you......and the kids......they alright.....?"

"They're fine. Nancy's with them......oh Malcolm.....it's so _good_ to hear your voice.....I can't tell you." 

"You okay? Fuck.....but I've missed you........" 

"Me too.......so have the kids, especially Grace........" she hesitated, ".......I love you Malc......."

Sam's face reddened, glancing about her, embarrassed at the intimacy of her own words with an audience listening in around her. 

"Fucking love you too darl......you're all that's kept me goin'..........hey Sam......"

"What is it?"

"Can we have spag bol......?" 

Now she absolutely KNEW her husband was okay. Tears flowed. 

"Yes, sweetie, anything you want!" 

There was a pause of a few seconds. 

"Sam.....I think I can see the boat coming......Christ Almighty......thank fuck for that......I'd better go....."

"Okay. I'll be here at the jetty, waiting.......I'll pass you back to the operator, see you in a bit......"

"Bye love! Er......Over and out!"


	18. Return of the Mac.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is waiting at Oban for the Lifeboat to come in.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Oban Lifeboat. 
> 
>  

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.  
RETURN OF THE MAC.

_Saturday afternoon........_

The sight of the orange and blue Lifeboat skimming across the bay towards harbour was one that Sam really didn't expect ever to witness. 

She could see him. 

Long before the boat neared the shore. 

Standing motionless in the stern, hunched over, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of the puffa coat, which was pulled up tight around his neck. 

Dishevelled and bearded but unmistakably Malcolm.

Leaving the warmth of the station she went out onto the jetty with the rest of the team as the vessel came alongside.

A crew member jumped nimbly ashore, helping to tie up, he then reached back across to assist Malcolm as he stepped onto dry land.

His legs seemed wobbly, a healing lump on his head, but otherwise he seemed bodily unscathed. 

"You should go to the Hospital Mr Tucker......get yourself checked out....." 

Malcolm proffered his hand and heartily shook with all the members of the lifeboat crew one by one, thanking them with genuine warmth. 

Then he turned to his wife, as she walked forward to greet him. 

If either party was expecting histrionics, they were to be disappointed. 

Sam did not faint away or dissolve into paroxysms of weeping. Her husband did not fall to his knees with joy and relief, nor clutch onto his wife as if he'd never let her go. 

No. 

It was a restrained meeting. 

He walked gratefully into her embrace, holding her for a few seconds, before peeling back and kissing her mouth briefly. 

Silent. 

Apart from a whispered salutation of _'fuck!'_

Placing an arm around her shoulder, he turned her, walking along the pier and back towards the car park. 

"Are you okay? She enquired eventually, when it seemed clear he would not volunteer to speak further. Looking up with concern into his weathered face. 

"I'm good. Let's get to the hospital. I want to see Jamie......" His reply was brisk. Businesslike. He was almost tugging her along, urgently, his walk hurried but unsteady. 

"Malcolm......sweetie....." Sam halted him. Frowning up at him, as he tried to continue moving. Her tone calm and quiet.  
"You need to be seen by a Doctor, get something inside you.....get warm....Jamie's in a safe place, he's being cared for.....he's okay......the children want to see you....." 

His answer was only a frustrated puff, he was not to be dissuaded. 

"No! I need to see him first, satisfy myself...... _then_ I can see the kids......I won't be able to relax until I know.....you don't know what's it's been like Sam......how worried I've been about him......you weren't there when I found him........I thought he was d......." 

Malcolm stopped suddenly, unable to continue, looking away from her with his eyes narrowed, rolling forwards onto his toes then rocking back on his heels, as if at any moment he would run wild. 

"Fuck it....Sam.....please, I just need to see him, yeah?" 

Sam moved around to stand facing her husband. Taking both his icy hands in hers she interlinked their fingers firmly.

"Alright Malcolm. I understand. We'll go straight there. I don't have the car here.....I'll ask if someone wouldn't mind giving us a lift......and if you don't mind.....I'll ring your sister."

Malcolm nodded, holding onto her fingers tightly. His eyes were screwed up in an effort to contain himself, which did not escape Sam's notice. Reaching up she stroked his hairy cheek. 

"It's okay darling.......we'll be there in ten minutes, it's not far.......don't upset yourself.....you did good, and Jamie will be fine....." 

oOo

Sam Tucker and Ellie McDonald sat together in the corridor outside Jamie's room. 

Their husbands were inside, cosseted together. 

Ellie had held Malcolm closer than he'd held his own wife on seeing him enter the cubicle. 

He bore it stoically, rigid in her embrace, hugging her lightly in return, but anxious to be free. 

"I'll never be able to find words Malc......Jamie's been telling me, what you did for him, how you saved him.....you'll always be my hero....."

Malcolm grimaced, looking away in embarrassment. 

"I'm no fucking hero. I was scared shitless. It wasn't like that. Don't be so fucking daft, woman." 

Ellie released her grip and stepped back, she seemed hurt and confused by his somewhat harsh words. 

Sam came to her rescue, taking her friend's arm, guiding her away. 

"Let's go get a coffee hun, let the two men talk for a bit......Malcolm's tired and overwrought....I just want him to see the doc and get him home asap......" 

Ellie allowed herself to be lead away. 

Malcolm took a seat beside his friend's bed. 

Jamie no longer wore the mask over his face, instead he sported green plastic nasal cannulae, feeding him extra oxygen.  
A tube came from the side of his chest where the Doctors had aspirated his pleural cavity, and an IV line in his good arm fed a supply of normal saline and antibiotics.  
His bad arm was set in temporary plaster of Paris, strapped across him. He looked little better as regards his colour but at least the pain was numbed with drugs and he was slightly more comfortable. 

"You okay?" The long fingers of Malcolm's left hand closed over the right of his companion. 

Jamie gave a wan smile. 

"I'm chipper mate......thanks to you......" 

"Oh, don't you start that fucking Superman Marvel fucking people's hero stuff too......for Christ's sake......I can't take it.......just wanna know you're gonna be alright.....that's all." 

The hand he held turned over, palm upwards, the fingers curling around Malcolm's and squeezing back with interest.  
Eyes locked on eyes.  
His friend smiled again. 

"I'm being loaded with enough penicillin to cure a fucking cart horse. My arm has been set until the swelling has gone down. Although your splinting was highly praised I have to mention! I might need surgery to help the bone knit together and if I do I'll be full of fucking metal screws!  
They've drawn about 400mls of gunk out of my chest cavity.....I've been given an injection of pethidine and I'm just about ready to party hard........okay?" He replied, in a valiant attempt at brevity. 

Malcolm let out a slow whistle of air through pursed lips. 

"You better not be lying to me.....you fucking cock sucker....or......."

"I'm telling the truth. Listen. I'm fine. Sorry I gave you such a hard time, mate." 

Malcolm pulled a face. 

"Yeah. I told you. You're a pain in the fucking arse.....always were...." 

Jamie gripped his friend's hand tighter, lifting it slightly from the covers. 

"Malcy.......see the doc.....go home.......go see your kids.......please......I'm good......" 

"I just had to come......see for myself, you know. Loading you into that chopper and watching it fly off.....fuck me.....I was that scared......thought you were a gonner all over again.....I'd appreciate it if, in future, you didn't decide to nearly die on me ever again.....okay.......?"

His comrade laughed, then coughed chestily. 

"I'm sorry, Malc. I'll try not to. I promise. Now please......do as I ask, for once in your fucking life. Go home."

"What about Jess....you seen her yet?"

"No.....Ellie's gonna bring her in tomorrow.....hopefully I'll look better by then. She didn't want the lass to see me looking like death, thought it might frighten her. She's still with your sister.  
Malc.....mate, don't be hard on Ellie......she doesn't understand what went on back there.....she doesn't know all that happened.....I don't think she really needs to know how I was when you found me.....I've spared her that, it'll just scare the b'jesus out of her.....don't forget......she's vulnerable in her condition.....but she loves the hell out of you right now, you've given her her husband back.....let her voice that, she needs to, okay?" 

Malcolm rose to his feet. 

"Yeah. Okay.....sorry......I didn't mean to snap her head off. I'm just tired....." 

"Coz you are! Malcolm, I love you, truly......but for fucks sake go home. See your kids.....have sex with your wife......rest up. We made it Brov....we're alive......celebrate it......now fuck off outa my sight......."

His friend finally allowed himself a smile at Jamie's words. With a final nod and squeeze of the hand, he left. 

Outside he saw that Ellie and Sam waited patiently. 

The two women stood as he came out into the corridor. Giving them what he hoped was an apologetic smile. Jamie's wife regarded him with a nervous expression, almost backing away as he walked purposefully towards her. 

To her surprise, Malcolm enveloped her in a warm and genuine hug. Speaking into her ear as he did so. 

"Sorry Ellie. Didn't mean to be a cunt. I love you, and I love him.....I'm going home to my kids now." 

Pulling away, she kissed him on both cheeks. 

"Thank you Malcolm. That's all. Just, thank you." She whispered tearily. 

Sam took her husband's arm. 

"Come on Malc. Time to go." 

oOo

The reaction as the children heard the cab draw up outside the cottage was predictable. 

Young Jamie and Robbie were ecstatic, capering about the lounge. 

"Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" They cried. 

On entering, Malcolm's legs were immediately surrounded in a full frontal assault by his two boys. 

He held them tight, dropping down on one knee, drawing them both into his body, rocking them from side to side. Kissing them over and over. Before releasing them and letting them run off to play. 

Only Grace held back, mainly because Jess did. 

The two girls standing together, their hands clasped. 

Malcolm turned to the pair. 

"Grace, sweetheart.....give Daddy a minute yeah.....?" 

The little lass nodded sagely. She understood. 

Taking her hand from his daughter's, he gathered Jess up, holding her in his arms, as she looked closely at him, unsure.  
The beard, the dishevelled look, it wasn't the Uncle Malcolm she knew. 

"Jess, sweetie.....I've just come from seeing your Daddy, yeah? He gonna be as right as ninepence. Mummy will be home later, and she's gonna take you in to see Daddy in the morning when he's had a good nights rest. You're not to worry about him......okay......? He's fine." 

The wee girl listened to the words carefully, weighing them. Seemingly reaching a decision, she then wrapped her arms around Malcolm's neck, hugging him tightly. 

"I love you Uncle Malcolm." She whispered, as he set her back on her feet. 

Malcolm then turned to his own daughter. Waiting patiently there. Her face so grave and serious. 

"Where's my best girl then?" He cried, bending down again and holding out his arms. 

Grace stepped into her father's embrace, and immediately began to cry. 

So different from her manically excited brothers. 

"Hey.......sweetheart.......c'mon.....it's alright.....I'm home now." His large splayed hand rubbed the narrow little back comfortingly, as she hung on him.  
Not saying a word. 

Malcolm buried his face into the soft curls. Breathing in the scent of her.

"I need to talk to you Daddy.....later.....it's very important." She said, sniffing back her tears. 

"Alright darling, a little bit later when all the fuss has died down, yeah?"

Nodding, the youngster backed away, taking Jess by the hand again, and disappearing into the bedroom. 

"Well!" Malcolm laughed nervously, standing tall again. "What was that all about?" 

Nancy came forward to take her turn in hugging her brother. 

"She's your daughter Malcolm......and she is SO like you.......there's a deep connection....like you and me had when we were children.....it's weird.....spooky even.....but it's there. You must make sure you talk to her, she's very young but she's been very worried." 

"It's good to see you sis......" Malcolm held on to Nancy for several moments. 

"It's good that you're safe, brother dear.....you had us all worried for a bit there......but, hey, let's not think about that. You're back and that's all that matters. I spoke to Ellie, she told me Jamie's fine, and I hear you're now officially holding 'hero' status?" 

"The fuck I am! Don't Nance.......please......I don't wanna talk about it....not now.....I'm just glad to be back....and I'll be even better when we go back to London." 

Sam came to his side, almost forgotten in the melee that had ensued. She was quiet, almost subdued, but her relief was palpable. 

Her husband turned to her and kissed her hair, putting an arm lazily around her shoulder. 

"Would you like to eat first....or take a shower.....or what.....?" She asked, snaking an arm around his back at waist level. 

"None of the above." He responded gently. "I wanna just spend a bit of time with the kids.....by myself....do you mind, darling?"

His wife furrowed her brow, stroking across the small of his back. 

"Of course I don't mind. Take all the time you want. We'll have our time later." She smiled. 

"Tell you what. You go and read to them, and Nance and I will make a big spag bol......how does that sound?"

Malcolm kissed the tip of her nose affectionately. 

"I love you Mrs Tucker."


	19. Storytime.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is spending quality time with the children......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've chosen 'Mrs Armitage on Wheels' by Quentin Blake as the story for Malcolm to read because it was my son's very favourite story at that age. Night after night we had to read it....he was word perfect!!  
> I found this picture on google the other day, so I thought I'd include it, it just screamed of the Tucker kids for me! 
> 
>  

CHAPTER NINETEEN.  
STORYTIME.

_Saturday evening......._

Nancy and Sam prepared the dinner together. 

Malcolm was ensconced with all four children in the master bedroom. 

It was very quiet. 

Sam chopped onion with measured aggression. Her eyes streamed. 

Nancy placed her hands over her friend's, arresting her movement.

"Sam.....stop.......breathe.....you're crying."

"Sorry, it's the onions."

Nancy turned her, relieving her of the knife, laying it aside. Putting her arms around her sister-in-law, giving her a tight hug. 

"He'll be okay. Give him time......but Sam.....take my advice. I know Malc....." 

She held up a hand to hush the tearful outburst she knew was about to come. 

"......I _know_ you know him too......." She confirmed, holding her friend at arms length. "But I know when Malc was younger, when traumatic things happened.....he'd go into shut down mode......or run away......he'd curl up like an armadillo....defensive strategy, wouldn't let anyone near."

Sam interrupted. 

"He did the same when he was sacked, over the Steve Fleming thing......and after Goolding he was a mess. When the Brewer trial ended and Jamie was born, we went to Italy to escape.......I know well enough what's going to happen.....it's already happening." 

"Then you mustn't let it. He'll shut you out just as sure as he'll shut himself down. It's his way. But he needs to talk about what happened, he needs to face it, move passed it. You're going to have a very vulnerable Malcolm on your hands......he'll need coaxing, tenderness......but you know that, you're married to him.....I don't really need to tell you.....I realise that.....but I just wanted you to know, that I _know_.....okay? I know just what he's like, and in the days and weeks to come, I'm on the end of the phone if you need me. Ring me if you're worried, okay?"

"Thank you Nance. In fact, thank you for everything. You've been so wonderful. Looking after the children, being there, such a strong and comforting presence. I love you so much." 

The cuddle retightened anew. 

"Oh, and I love you too.....I never thought anyone would marry my stupid brother.....I never thought anyone would see the wonderful person I knew him to be. But you did. You've made him so happy Sam....and the kids you've given him too. He didn't expect to ever be a dad, and he's a fantastic father. As I always suspected he would be. I knew he'd make a great husband too, once you get passed the bluster and the swearing!  
That's all most people saw......but not you.....and I'll always be so glad of that. We're family. You and me.  
Malcolm is a very lucky man."

Relinquishing her grip, Nancy moved away, returning to the mushrooms she was busy slicing. 

"It's very quiet in the bedroom. You'd best go see what they're up to." 

Wiping her hands on a tea towel Sam went to the bedroom door and pushed it open slightly. 

oOo

The lighting in the room was muted, a single lamp. 

Propped against the headboard with his long legs stretched out in front of him, was her husband. 

Arranged around him on the double bed were the four children. 

Robbie and Grace curled under each armpit, their heads on his chest. Young Jamie sitting cross-legged at his knee, Jess laying along the side of his other thigh, her head resting on Grace's hip. 

Malcolm's arms came around the two closest to him, holding the book in front of him as he read. 

"Mrs Armitage on Wheels by Quentin Blake." He began. 

_"Mrs Armitage was out on her bicycle._  
_Breakspear the dog ran alongside......_

 _A hedgehog walked across the road,_  
_Tring! Tring! Went Mrs Armitage on the bell._

 _'What this bike needs,' said Mrs Armitage to herself._  
_'Is a really loud horn.'........."_

His voice was deep and low. It's timbre perfect for reading to children. 

Robbie's thumb was stuffed comfortingly into his mouth, already becoming sleepy. Grace's gaze was transfixed on her father's scruffy face. 

He was, as yet, unwashed, unshaven, still wearing the clothes he'd been rescued in.....

Sam could see that the soles of his feet were torn and sore. 

Closing the door to again, she left her little brood to their dad. 

They needed this time. Especially Grace, who had been the most disturbed by the events of the last few days. 

Her musings were rudely interrupted by the telephone. 

It was Ellie. 

"Sam.....hi.....it's me."

"Everything alright?"

"Well, yes......and no......"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I have an appointment with my consultant in London on Monday......and Jamie requires more specialist care for his chest......so the long and the short of it is, they're going to transfer him to The London Bridge Hospital.....tomorrow. Then I'll be able to visit, see my doctor, and be at home...."

"Are they worried about him then?"

"No, but they haven't the facilities here, I think they're more worried about me actually, and they don't want me to miss ante-natal appointments...."

"Makes sense.....you want us to keep Jess with us? Only she was looking forward to seeing Jamie...."

"No, it's okay.....I'm going to come home soon, then in the morning I'll take her in with me, I'll drop the hire car off and take the train.....I'm not driving from Oban to London with my bump.....I can't sit all that time in a seat belt, I'll be too uncomfortable......"

"Well, if I ask Malc......maybe we'll travel back to London tomorrow too......the kids are meant to be at school on Monday anyway, I wasn't going to bother until Malcolm was ready to return......but if you and Jamie won't be here there doesn't seem much point in staying, we might as well do the same.....you can come with us then......" 

"Oh sweetie, that's kind. But I'll make my own way......I'll make it into an adventure for Jess, she'll love it.....you could take our cases back though, so we don't have baggage to lug about......"

"Of course. That's not a problem.....I'll see you when you get back....we've made spag bol.....we'll save you some!"

"You're a dear! I'm starving.......okay, I'll see you in an hour or so. Bye Sam."

oOo

There was no sound at all from the bedroom now. 

Sam tiptoed back to peer in, tell him about the call, and that dinner was ready. 

The sight that met her eyes made her chest swell with a sob she tried her best to stifle.

Jamie and Robbie were out for the count on either side of their father, curled with their knees up, like a pair of bookends. Jess was sprawled across the bottom of the bed, flat on her back with her arms flung up above her head, flowing brown locks strewn out like mermaid's hair. 

Grace lay draped across Malcolm's chest. Her cheek pressed against his sternum. 

Her small hands clutched two fistfuls of his fleece possessively. 

Malcolm himself was deeply asleep. The book he'd been reading lay where it had fallen. His head drooping forwards, chin tucked down and resting on the top of his daughter's blonde head. One hand lay splayed across her back, holding her in place, the other limp at his side. 

His body rose and fell with each breath, a slight snore coming from his throat. 

Sam crept to the bedside. Looking down on her little family, all snuggled together. Part of her wanted to crawl in alongside them. Part of her wanted to let go.....to weep for joy. 

But Malcolm hadn't eaten. 

He hadn't washed. Or changed. He didn't seem to care. 

Should she wake him? 

She decided against it. 

Thinking back to the old days, she remembered when she'd first met her husband. His irregular eating habits.  
Semi-starvation even.  
Gradually, over the years, this had improved. 

Did it really matter right now?

He was dead tired. Warm and comfortable. 

She guessed not. 

Gingerly, she gathered Jess into her arms and carried her, limp and sagging, to her bunk bed. Returning for Robbie, who didn't stir.  
Tucking them both in, smoothing the youthful brows, giving them both a goodnight kiss. 

Jamie proved to be a little heavier to manage. He opened his eyes as she tried to lift him.  
Groaning, and complaining at being taken from his warm spot. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. Mummy's gonna pop you into bed.....leave Daddy to sleep yeah?"

The child yawned widely and rubbed his eyes. 

"Mmm hmm." He agreed, still dozy. 

Holding his pyjama waistband to steady him as he clambered up the wooden ladder into the top bunk she hopped up onto the slats of the bed below and pulled the duvet over him. 

"Night, night my big man." She whispered, and kissed him. 

"Mummy?" He murmured drowsily. 

"What is it?" Her hand stroked through the thick hair gently. 

"I'm glad Daddy's back safe." 

"Me too darling. Me too. Night." 

Clambering down, she returned to the bedroom for Grace. 

As soon as her hands reached to touch her daughter, Grace gave a moan of discontent. Clinging to Malcolm all the tighter. 

"Come on little lady.....time to go in your own bed......" 

"No!" She protested. "Wanna stay with Daddy." 

The more Sam tried to separate them, the more distressed the little girl became, until Malcolm stirred beneath her and opened his eyes, the lids heavy as lead, smacking his lips together, as he came to. 

"What's happening?" He slurred, with evident confusion. 

"It's okay, I was going to take Grace.....put her to bed.....I didn't want to disturb you......"

"Leave her. She's upset." Malcolm tugged his child's body closer to him, petting her hair absentmindedly, shushing her, soothing her tears.

"Hey.....it's okay sweetie.......go back to sleep......you can stay here with Daddy......" He whispered. 

"Want you Daddy." The lass sobbed, snuggling herself further into the embrace. 

"But......aren't you hungry, darling?" Sam asked, in a hushed tone. "You've eaten nothing......"

There was a certain degree of frustration in Sam's demeanour now. Everyone had been given a piece of Malcolm except her.  
The strain and the worry of the last few days without him had taken their toll.  
Sam wanted her husband. 

She longed to be close to him too. To hold him, feel his warmth. Be beside him. She yearned for the contact. 

"What time is it?" He asked, rubbing a hand across his bearded chin. 

"Half seven......." 

"Is Ellie back from the hospital yet.....?"

"Not yet. Malcolm they're going to transfer Jamie to The London Bridge....tomorrow. I thought we'd go back too.....would you like to do that?"

"Yeah. I wanna go home. I don't like it here." 

Sam frowned. 

"Right. Okay......well, we'll leave in the morning then......you gonna come eat or not?"

"Not right now. Not really hungry. I'm comfortable. And this little one wants me....." He looked down at Grace's now blissful sleeping face. 

With a sigh, Sam rose. 

"I'll go and eat myself then, I've had nothing all day, and I'm faint with hunger. I'll leave you to it. Come back later......"

Malcolm's eyes in the half light looked startlingly bright but sorrowful. The colour of the sea, but rimmed with red. 

"Don't be angry with me Sam.......I'm done in......I'll be better when we're home......sorry I'm like this, but I don't know how to be anything else right now." 

Reaching out, his wife touched his cheek, and he leaned gratefully into her hand, closing his eyes. 

"Oh Malc darling....I'm not angry......I'm just glad you're safe......I've been so worried....waiting for news. Petrified that something had happened to you......I love you......so, so much."

Turning his face to the side, he kissed her palm, as Grace scrabbled a little further up his chest, her arms winding themselves tightly around his throat. 

"Daddy!" She fretted. 

Sam pulled away. 

"I'll go eat.....then I'll come to bed......I'm exhausted.." She murmured tearfully. "I know it's been hell for you.....I can't begin to guess......it's been hell for me too......" 

She held up a silencing finger, as Malcolm made to object.

".......I know it's not a competition, so you don't need to say it! I know the children need you and that Jamie McDonald needs you......and your sister needs you.....but I need you too......okay? Just so you know......I'm only human, just like everyone else.....I'm not the exception.....I have the same feelings, fears, needs......so please don't shut me out Malc, because I can't fucking bear it." 

She left the room quietly. 

Part of her was sure he'd follow. Leave Grace to sleep. Come and sit at the table. Eat something. 

But he didn't. 

Three hours later she crawled into the bed next to him, where he lay, still sleeping soundly, with his small daughter wrapped, limpet-like around him.


	20. Out of the Mouths of Babes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm has a deep and meaningful heart to heart with his daughter....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is struggling a bit here, he just needs to get home!
> 
> A quick word about Malcolm speaking to Grace. It doesn't matter that she's nearly four. Malcolm won't talk down to her. He'll speak to her as if she's an adult. Simplified perhaps, but not in silly childish terms or babyish expressions, and never treating her as if she's stupid, or wrong to ask. Nor will he fob her off.
> 
> A lot of the conversations I write or have written, about Malcolm having conversations with kids, either his own or his nephew/nieces, are based on my own children and the questions they've asked, how they get hold of snippets of information, and process it in their minds. (Not always correctly!!)

CHAPTER TWENTY.  
OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES.

_Sunday morning, early......_

Sam could not really get close to him. 

Sandwiched as she was between Malcolm and her own daughter. 

As a rule the children were not encouraged into their bed, it was an unwritten rule which Sam had always maintained and been quite strict about.  
Tonight was an exception. 

Grace was fastened to her father like Velcro. 

Malcolm's clothes reeked. 

Why had he not wanted to shower and change?

They smelled of sea water, engine oil, and sweat. 

Underneath it all though, somewhere, was the scent of her husband, the scent she loved and had missed so much. 

She woke very early. Hot and uncomfortable. 

Tangled amongst the bedclothes, with Grace's leg slung across her. 

Yawning, she vacated the bed. It was pointless to try and sleep further. She would use the time to pack up their things and prepare to leave.  
Ellie would wake soon and she would have breakfast ready for her and Jess, before they headed off. 

She still felt numb, somehow. Not fully functioning. A vague nausea. 

Without warning her phone drilled in her pocket. 

"Hi there. Mrs Tucker. Alexander McCrae from the Herald here." 

Sam pulled a face. This was the very last thing she needed. 

"What can I do for you?" She asked, coldly. 

"I heard the good news. So I was ringing about the exclusive....."

"Look, McCrae.....this isn't a good time. We are leaving today to return to London. My husband is in no fit state, or frame of mind to be interviewed. I've hardly had a chance to even speak to him properly myself since yesterday. I'm afraid it'll have to wait." 

"That's not our deal Mrs Tucker. You promised me an in depth interview with pictures.....you can't go back on it now.....or...." 

"Or what? Don't threaten me Mr McCrae. Malcolm has been through an ordeal, he needs a couple of days....no.....WE need a couple of days......to readjust. The children have been traumatised, we all have.....have a little common decency for Christ's sake. I will contact you as soon as I'm able, and we'll arrange something then.....but until then, please, leave us alone." 

She clicked off the phone and plonked herself unceremoniously on a stool at the kitchen counter.  
Head in her hands. 

An arm snaked around her shoulders. 

Ellie. 

"You okay?"

"Oh _Ellie_......" 

Sam's tears began to spill. 

"I don't feel like I've got him back.....he's distant and silent......and......." 

"My guess is he just wants to get home......once he's there, things'll settle. Back into routine.....he'll be okay, I'm sure. Who was that on the phone?"

"Fucking McCrae from the Herald. I've not even told Malcolm about that yet......it's not going to go down well.....you know what he thinks about press intrusion.....he's gonna be livid with me." 

"Sweetie, you did what you had to do. It was important to get the story out there at the time....it might have been the difference between them being found or not. You weren't to know. Malcolm will understand that. You had to try every avenue open to you.....there really wasn't a choice......"

Sam wiped her eyes. 

"I fucking hope so.....I can't bear it El.......he's like he was after Goolding.....a stranger."

"Like I say.....get him home.....he'll soon rally......especially if he sees Jamie's doing well.....and he was, last night when I left him.....doing fine." 

"Yeah. He will. I'm sure he will......thanks......" 

"No worries. Now I'm gonna get myself off. But we'll meet up again tomorrow, or Tuesday.....yes?"

"Sure. I'll come into town and visit Jamie once he's settled on his ward.....but I'll ring or text you....."

oOo

Malcolm opened his eyes. 

Relieved to find that the roaring sound of the wind and the rain were inside his head. 

Lifting his arm slightly, he raised his chin to regard his sleeping child with some amusement. 

Still draped across his chest. She was a little ball of fire. Hot and sticky against him. Golden curls plastered down. Flushed cheek pressed into his sternum. 

She stirred then, stretching and giving a groan of awakening. 

"Morning lass." He whispered. 

Her eyes were gummed up with sleep. A string of drool pooling on his shirt front.  
Wiping a hand across her mouth she raised herself.  
Regarding him with a serious frown. 

"Daddy, you don't smell like you." She stated, flatly. Wrinkling her nose. 

"I don't care." He replied simply, running his fingers through his grizzled mop of dirty grey hair. 

"You wanted to talk to me." He continued. "Important you said. Now's a good time.....whilst we're alone.....once your brothers are awake, all hell will break loose.....then we'll be packing up to leave here.....and we'll have to drive to Glasgow.....drop your auntie off......"

The childish eyebrows furrowed, as she considered him critically before speaking. 

"When you were lost, were you frightened?" She asked, eventually. 

"Very."

"I saw you, in my head......you were crying......I was really scared." 

"I'm sorry if I scared you sweetheart. I didn't mean to.......I was just thinking hard about getting back to you.....and mummy, and your brothers."

"Mummy missed you a lot, Daddy. She was trying to be really brave.....she told me to think about you when I went to bed, and I did.......and I saw you again, but you were asleep, and you looked sad....." 

Malcolm swallowed down a sob. 

"I saw you too angel......in my head......" he tapped a temple with his finger. "You were asking me to wake up.....and I did.....and the helicopter came......so thank you little lady.....you did a good and wonderful thing." 

The little girl smiled. Relieved. Beaming with happiness.

"I did?"

"Yes you did. And I love you so much......and I love Mummy too, and Jamie, and Robbie......"

"And Uncle Jamie, and Ellie and Jess.....don't forget them......"

"Yes, and them too. You know what I want to do?"

"What Daddy?" 

"I want to have some breakfast, all together, then I want to get in the car and go home......and when we get there I want to have a lovely long soak in a really deep bubbly bath.....and wash it all away.....then I'll feel better. What do you think?"

Reaching forward he nuzzled her face with his chin, making her giggle. 

"I think that sounds great......can I get in with you.....?"

"No.....sorry......I want all the bubbles and all the hot water just for me.....and I want to lay back, duck my head under.....and wallow. I can't do that if you're in there with me." 

"What about your face? It tickles....."

"Ah, now _that_ I might keep......I'll see whether Mummy likes it......."

"Can mummy get in your bubbles?"

"I don't know.....she might if I ask her nicely......"

"You won't have any clothes on......will you.....? Is that why I can't get in.....?"

Malcolm could sense where this was going.

"Well, no one has a bath with their clothes on, do they? And no, that isn't why you can't get in......"

"Is it because only Mummy can see you nudie......" the youngster interrupted. "........she says when we're around you should wear pants.....because we mustn't see! Is it rude?"

"Well, no not really, but you're a little girl, and I'm a grown man, so some things should be kept private."

"Is it because you've got a willy? And I'm not allowed to see it.....because Jamie and Robbie have willies, and I've seen them loads of times.....it's no biggy."

"Not to you perhaps, because you're so sensible. I'm not hiding myself from you Grace, bodies aren't something to be ashamed of, I'm okay with you seeing me without clothes on, but you might want to see. It might make you uncomfortable, seeing my arse. Same as the boys seeing mummy's boobs, she doesn't care too much, but they might. There are also times when it's just for our own privacy too, sweetheart, we might not want you or your brothers bursting in on us, at any given moment, because we might be having a bit of Mummy/Daddy time, it's just a case of what's appropriate at the time and what's not, that's all. Do you understand?"

His daughter considered this information carefully, mulling over his words, apparently accepting them. 

"Why don't I have a willy?"

"Because you're a little lass. And they don't have them. Mummy doesn't have one either." 

"Jamie says babies come out of your willy......."

"Did he now?!"

"It's rubbish.....babies come out of mummies tummies.......that's why Ellie has a big belly.....there's a baby inside......I'm not stupid......"

"Grace. Sweetheart, I know you're not! I'll explain it all to you, but not now okay......I'm very hungry, and still quite tired, and it's a subject that needs to be tackled properly, not with lots of silly stories and things your brothers and their friends say.....you're old enough to understand some things I think, and I'll tell you all about it when we get home......I'll sit down with you, some Daddy and Grace time, answer all your questions, okay?"

"I'm nearly four.......Jamie says daddies and mummies have special cuddles......when they're in bed with no clothes on.......that's what you need to do.......you need to give mummy a special cuddle. To make her feel better......so she won't cry.......please daddy......will you?"

The bottom lip wavered slightly, as his daughter's deadly serious expression stabbed her father's heart. 

"Grace, darling, I promise I will.....okay? I promise you I'll give Mummy a really special cuddle, hold her tight, kiss her and make her feel better......just as soon as we get home......it's that alright....?"

Skinny arms were wound lovingly around his neck, clasping him close. The soft cheek resting against his own. 

"I love you Daddy. Please don't go away like that again. I didn't like it.....and neither did Mummy....we needed you." 

"Oh my precious darling...." Malcolm buried his face into the cloud of hair. "I needed you too.....so much......god, you're so grown up......it'll be alright......I promise......we'll all be a little family again. Just as we were. Okay?" 

"You promise? Cross your heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your eye?"

"What the f.......? Your brother again huh? One of his sayings...? Okay.....I promise, on my honour. That good enough?"

"Okay. Let's go get breakfast now......my tummy is rumbling." 

"Mine too." 

oOo

Malcolm watched as his daughter extricated herself from the bedclothes, tugging down her nightie, pushing her fuzz of hair back from her face, before tripping off happily.

He yawned. Sat up. 

His head was itchy. His hair needed washing. 

Looking down at himself. Examining his own raw hands. 

The clothes he wore smelled of Scarba, but the aroma was comforting. 

It was helping him process everything that had happened in the last few days. 

He had not mentioned to anyone that each time he closed his eyes he replayed the awful moment of turning over Jamie's body on the beach. 

Clutching the straps of his sodden life vest with those same numb fingers. 

A sickening lurch hit his stomach, almost made him retch. 

Malcolm swallowed down the feeling, clasping his arms around his empty belly, to prevent it.  
He knew he needed to eat something, but somehow his churning guts said otherwise.

He had not recounted to a living soul the trauma of looking down into Jamie's glassy, unseeing eyes. The wrinkled skin from the sea water. How cold he felt to the touch. 

Nor had he faced the fact that he could still hear the sound of the battering wind and the lashing rain. 

The last thing he wished to talk about was his own fear of dying, or.....and this was much worse.....of losing his best friend, right there, on an uninhabited island, and remaining there alone until help arrived, with nothing but Jamie's body for company. 

Holding out his hands again, turning them palm up, looking down at them. They were shaking.

A sudden thought struck him. 

Fumbling in his trouser pocket, Malcolm found his phone. 

Forgetting it lay at the bottom of the Corryvreckan, he dialled Jamie's mobile number.  
Only a recorded unavailability message could be heard. 

Stabbing the keypad with his trembling fingers, he dialled Oban Hospital. Thankful he'd saved the number. 

Asked to be put through. Waited impatiently whilst the call was connected and the phone taken to Jamie's bedside. 

"Mate. What's up? You okay?" Jamie's voice was still weak, sounding slightly concerned, but still gloriously, unmistakably, comfortingly........ _real._

"Was gonna ask you the same fucking question......"

"Well we're waiting for the transport, thank fuck and the gods at BUPA.....I'm being airlifted....how about _that_ for fucking VIP treatment......?" 

He coughed a little, before clearing his throat. 

"........Ellie and Jess are coming too......they've just arrived......mate, what are you doing? Why are you calling me......?"

Malcolm choked off the rising nausea in his throat. 

"Dunno. I was worried.....just wanted to hear your voice......to know you were okay....."

"Now who's being a massive fucking gay? Listen. My chest still hurts like fuck, like I've been hit by a wrecking ball....arm feels a bit less like nails are being driven into it......the antibios are working....slowly...I'm alright pal....I'm getting better by the day....for fucks sake stop worrying about me....you did good..... _you fucking did_.....please Malc.....get yourself home and stop being a dick....." 

A paroxysm of bronchial coughing cut off his friend's words. 

"....Malc, I have to go, they're preparing us, ready to leave. We're going down to Glasgow, then transferring to a charter flight, we'll be back in London pretty quick.....it's a huge adventure for Jess, she's that excited....."

"Okay mate. I'm gonna try and eat something. Then we're on the road. We gotta drop Nance off at hers, say hi to Frank and the weans....but we'll no' stop long, I need to get back. I need a proper wash and to change my clothes.....but I can't at the moment.....while I can still smell it, it's real, you know? It happened.....it's......" 

Malcolm stopped speaking, unable to continue. 

A slight pause on the end of the line. Then Jamie's voice again. Soothing, in almost a role reversal. 

"Whisht......Malcy.......don't make me fucking come there......you 24 carat cock womble, _Jesus_....you'd better come see me tomorrow......I want fucking grapes.....I want Lucozade.....I wanna hug.....got me? Don't you fucking let me down mate, or that's it.....it's over.....all she wrote.....I'm divorcing you, you cunt....for neglect and unreasonable fucking behaviour......"

Malcolm found himself chuckling in spite of his precarious state of mind.

"Seriously? _Cock womble...?"_

"......mate, listen, I have to go.....there's a gorgeous wee nurse here with a syringe, just dying for me to bare my arse for her....sometimes a man's gotta do.....well, you know....."

"Fuck me McDonald! And I thought I was politically incorrect! Christ man......sexist....homophobic.... and you're married with a kid, and your missus up the duff an'll....."

"Joke Malc.......it's a fucking joke.....lighten up for the love of fuck......."

"Sorry sunshine. I'll let you go...enjoy the prick in your arse you jobby jabbing git.....I'll see you tomorrow!"

Malcolm clicked his phone off, laid it on the bed beside him. 

Looked at his outstretched hands again. 

They were still shaking.


	21. Comfort.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home at last, Sam thinks a little TLC is in order......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of three quite intimate chapters, beginning with some much needed comfort.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.  
COMFORT.

_Sunday evening......_

The journey home was completed with the minimum of fuss. 

Largely down to the fortitude of Samantha Tucker. 

Not only did she drive the whole way, but she held a singing contest, with such classics as _'the wheels on the bus go round and round'_ and a long running game, with the kids strapped in the back seat at the same time, of..... 

_"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with........"_

The trip was accomplished with a brief halt in Glasgow for lunch with Malcolm's sister and family, then a couple of toilet and sustenance stops on the M6.  
Malcolm slept a good deal on the way. The children, variously, drifted off from time to time too. 

Hitting traffic on the M1, Sam was in despair of ever reaching London. 

Finally, as evening fell, she pulled up outside their home.

Never, in her entire married life, had she been so pleased to see it. 

Nancy's husband Frank, had furnished them with bags of groceries. Something for which Sam was more than grateful, as the cupboard (and fridge) at home were bare. 

Kids fed and watered, bathed and put to bed. Ecstatic to be surrounded by their own things again. 

Washing machine groaning noisily under the first of several loads. 

Sam, finally had time to devote to her husband.

She felt it was way, way overdue. 

oOo

It was already nine.

Malcolm sat on the closed down toilet seat. Deep breaths. 

Watching the water fill the bath, leaning forward occasionally to swish the bubbles which were rapidly multiplying, like some weird arsed scientific experiment.  
_Quatermass......_

......maybe he'd used too much.....

Door ajar so it didn't get too steamy. 

The face he'd given a perfunctory glance towards in the bathroom mirror, barely recognisable as his own. 

Hollow eyes. Gaunt. Bearded. Dog tired. 

Sam was utterly exhausted by the time she finally left Grace's room.  
The little girl was being difficult. Tearful. She had not wanted to sleep in her own bed, and her mother feared that being allowed to spend the night with them at the cottage, had somehow set a precedent. 

It had been Malcolm, however, who placated her. 

Firmly, but kindly. Brooking no argument. 

Clicking on her little night light. Pulling the duvet up to her chin.  
Sam standing back, in the doorway, at the end of her tether after more than six hours of driving since leaving Glasgow, eyes glistening, as he knelt wearily down beside the bed, tucking brown bear in beside her. 

"Grace, listen to me. Brown bear needs you with him tonight, and I need mummy. Brown bear doesn't get a good nights sleep when you are in with Daddy, he feels left out.....and mummy feels left out when you're cuddled up to me.....so tonight, you be a good lass an' sleep here in your own cosy little bed......please. Keep brown bear warm and make him feel safe, and wanted and loved.....and I'll do the same for mummy.....okay?"

oOo

Creeping along the landing now, Sam could see glimpses of her husband through the crack in the door. 

He was undressing. 

Clothes folded almost with reverence and laid aside. 

Down to his boxers, peeling them off. 

Sam pushed the bathroom door open quietly. 

Malcolm turned sharply, and did something he used to do when they very first began their relationship.

He tried to hide himself. 

Bending over slightly, knees together, one arm protectively across his body, the other across his bollocks. His face registering shame. 

Sam kept her gaze on his liquid blue eyes, ignoring the rest. 

"Malc......it's okay......" She whispered. 

Without looking down, she took his hands, turning him to face the tub. 

"In you get." 

Holding her fingers firmly, he raised first one leg shakily, then the other, a hiss leaving his pursed lips as the hot water penetrated his sore and frozen feet. 

Letting her go, he gripped the edges of the bath, lowering himself slowly into the depths.  
Sam placed a gentle hand just at the small of his back to guide him as he eased himself in amongst the bubbles.  
Sucking in his tummy as the heat hit his most sensitive areas, cold knees, genitals, midriff......

"Oh! _Fuck_....." he breathed. 

Sam went down onto her knees on the tiled floor beside him. 

"Lean forwards." She whispered. 

Knees bent up, Malcolm curved himself over them, baring his back to her. 

Peppered still with scrapes and little wounds, healing now, but remaining stark reminders of his ordeal. 

His skin paper thin, so pale and delicate. 

"Feel good?" She asked, tracing the delta of prominent veins on his forearm with a fingertip.

"Mmm hmm."

Cupping her hands behind him, she let a trail of water trickle down, over his sore shoulders, down his spine, making him shudder. 

"This okay?" She repeated the motion over and over again. 

Malcolm couldn't speak for emotion, overwhelmed with relief to be here. So he simply nodded, drawing in a deep breath, releasing it in a long protracted hiss of pleasure.

"Lay back now, relax....." her voice radiating softness, so soothing that Malcolm could feel the tension oozing out of him as he did her bidding. 

The water lapped his chest, as his head came to rest against the rolled edge of the tub. 

He sighed again. 

Laying her hand flat against his sternum, between his pale pink nipples, Sam stroked him with great tenderness. 

"Let it go." She said, as his eyes fluttered shut. "You're safe now." 

His rib cage gave a convulsive jerk beneath her fingertips. A tiny mewl from his firmly clamped mouth. Tears leaking out from under his lashes, mingling with the tiny beads of sweat running down from his brow and onto his cheeks, but she continued her gentle touch, before raising herself slightly, leaning over him, placing a chaste kiss against his mouth. 

The response was immediate. 

He followed her forwards as she pulled back. Neck straining upwards, the sinews at the sides of his throat pulled taut with the effort. Lips parted, eager for the contact, his eyes snapping open so that he could see her face to gauge her expression. 

What he saw was adoration. 

And oh fuck...it was humbling......no, it was more than that.......so much more, it was fucking everything......and he'd missed it desperately.......  
........he needed it.  
Craved that look......a look that he never ever expected to be directed at him. _By anyone._  
Not ever. 

She looked at him that way because she meant it. 

He was loved. 

Completely and utterly. 

How could he ever really even begin comprehend it? 

This woman, much younger than he, so beautiful in his eyes, who could have had her pick of any one of a hundred suitors.  
Yet she fastened onto him. 

Grey. Old. Used and abused. Grizzled. A solid ball of fuck, with nothing going for him whatever.  
Not fit, not buff, not handsome in any way that he could think of.  
Mean, harsh, ruthless sometimes, scary and sweary. 

And yet, here she was, leaning over him. Her hair falling forwards over her face, brushing against his cheekbones lightly, the ends dipping into his bathwater.  
She reached up, tucking it behind her ear in that maddeningly attractive way she had, which messed with his head.

Her soft brown eyes were boring into his own, right to his very soul. 

Such love. 

Malcolm Tucker was where he belonged. 

The tips of her fingers playing across his skin, making every nerve, every cell and fibre tingle. 

"May I wash your hair.....it really does look very skanky.......?"

Unable to articulate, he nodded dumbly, his eyes following her, as she levered herself to her feet and fetched a jug. 

"Tilt your head back....." She murmured, as she began to pour a steady stream, smoothing her fingers backwards from the ridge of his brow.  
Dowsing his head with deft but purposeful movements. 

He'd obeyed without question, eyes closed, each minute vein on his eyelids visible.

The scent of the shampoo as she squeezed a pool into her open palm sent his senses reeling. 

Sucking in breaths through his nose. Savouring. 

"Ready?" 

Another vigorous nod. 

The euphoric feeling, as she worked up a lather, her fingernails scratching his scalp deliciously, sent jolts of such glorious pleasure right through his body that Malcolm was in serious danger of sensory overload. 

He could do nothing but keep his eyes shut and surrender to these wonderful sensations. 

From time to time a sigh of utter bliss would leave him, his long fingers gripping the sides of the tub to hold himself in place. 

"I'm not sure about the beard....." He vaguely heard her say. "Perhaps when you look a little less tramp like......I like the feel of it though.....it's not spiky, it's lovely and soft......."  
She kissed him again, and because his lids were closed he was not expecting it, her lips against his own were hot, she tasted sweet, like caramel.....or was he confused by the smell of the shampoo?

Fuck, his brain was so scrambled, he didn't know anything anymore. 

"My handsome warrior!"

Opening his eyes languidly, he was met by the sight of her broadly smiling over him.  
Christ! 

Was he actually melting? 

She booped his nose with her soapy finger. 

"Wanna see yourself....." She asked, head on one side slightly, a little coquettish giggle, her eyes dancing with amusement as she regarded him fondly from above. 

"What have you fucking done to me?"

Fetching the shaving mirror, she held it so he could see his reflection. 

His whole head covered in little mounds of suds, like foamy peaks.....a white blob on the tip of his nose.....

Barely able to contain her mirth. Childish glee, which rippled from her and was contagious. 

Malcolm laughed. 

Toothy, wide and genuine. Belly shaking beneath the water. That little squeak in his throat that made Sam's stomach flip strangely. 

"Fuck you!"

"Shall we rinse?" 

She was serious again. Focussed on his mouth seemingly, which seemed to have caught her attention somehow, making her eyes change from light to dark. 

"Yeah....." he breathed. 

"I'll try not to get soap in your eyes......it's ages since I've done this......"

Malcolm arched his back, presenting his forehead to her. 

It did not escape her notice that his semi-hard prick also broke the surface of the soapy depths further down.  
Bobbing there proudly, displaying itself for her to feast her eyes upon. Although she pointedly ignored it. 

How could he possibly not be aroused? 

Here he was, lying back in the warm water, her hand now smoothing back across his head, as the water trickled down, combing his scalp, easing the suds to the ends of his follicles, down the ultra-sensitive nape of his neck, avoiding his ears and his eyes. 

The whole act was one of reverence. 

Worship even. 

Naturally it would gravitate straight to his groin. 

Treated like a God. 

"Fucking hell Sam!" He whispered, as she held out a towel ready for him to step into. 

Enveloping him in its white softness, allowing him to dry himself. 

"Bedroom." She stated, simply. 

It was not a request! 

oOo

Seated now on the edge of the divan. 

Sporting an old T shirt and a pair of cotton bottoms. 

Malcolm had never really been a pyjama person. 

He liked to sleep in the raw. Relishing the contact of skin on skin. 

Children notwithstanding, this practise was fast becoming impossible. 

Practicalities. 

Basically he felt the cold more now. 

Also he could never quite be sure, in spite of strict rules about knocking, whether he would be caught unawares, deshabille, naked by one or all of his curious offspring. 

His concession to this clothing conundrum had only recently and reluctantly, reached the level of an old soft T shirt and either sweat pants, light jogging bottoms, or, if he was feeling really adventurous, loose cotton shorts with a draw string waist. 

Sam, similarly, abhorred the concept of 'the nightdress'. The most sexless garment she could possibly conceive of.  
Especially if it came in nylon or winceyette. Silk was a definite _'no no'._ Slidy. Slippery. Hot and uncomfortable.  
Invariably working it's way up around her middle. She did occasionally wear little shorts and a camisole but given the choice, she much favoured one of Malcolm's old T's. 

There were several very good and sound reasons for this....

They were roomy and loose. No uncomfortable straps, lace or elastic. 

Longer than her own on her. 

The material was well worn and very soft against her skin. 

They smelled of Malcolm. 

_'Nuff said!'.........._

........Sam switched off the hair dryer. 

Malcolm now resembled one of those fluffies on a stick that you use to clear away the cobwebs. 

He didn't give a shit. 

Malcolm Tucker was now deliciously soft and fragrant!

"Cocoa, Captain Bird's Eye?" She enquired, trailing a hand across his hairy cheekbone, making him go cross eyed as he tried to follow the line of her fingers. 

"Yeah....please love...." He replied distractedly, ignoring her attempt at a joke at his expense. 

Malcolm had given a great deal of thought to the way women moved during the course of his life. 

Surreptitiously of course. 

He wasn't an ogler or an objectifier, he was not a dirty old man. Perish the thought.  
But he was an admirer. An appreciator. 

He never once gave voice to his musings. 

No cat-calls. Or whistles. 

He abhorred those blokes in the office who made obscene, suggestive remarks, or who, worse still, pinched bums, or felt up legs or breasts etc. It was disgusting. It was assault. 

Several times, he'd come down hard on those he'd caught doing it. 

He'd confined his glances mainly to girlfriends, his ex-wife even, rather than random women generally. 

Was it okay for a man to just admire a woman? 

He wasn't sure any more. 

But he felt on fairly safe ground where his own wife was concerned. 

It was definitely allowed. 

Fuck it all! She was doing it for his benefit. Putting on a show, so he'd see......

There was a certain beautiful fluidity. 

He reasoned, idly, that it was all in the hips. 

Women had wider hips than men, that was a fact......and in his past researches he'd found that when a woman who was attracted to a man walked away from him, there was an inordinate amount of swaying......

....it may be conscious, or it may be unconscious......he wasn't entirely certain......

.......all he knew was that Sam moved like that right now. 

Signals.

The curve of her bottom beneath the T shirt positively sashayed......the way she put one leg directly in front of the other when she moved accentuated the roll of her bum.  
Her progress was unhurried......slow and sensual.  
It was captivating.  
She also turned back briefly to look at him and flash a smile. Just as she reached the door, leaning on it slightly, one arm raised above her head, so that he could see the way the material flowed over the mounds of her breasts, her nipples peaking through, the curl of her spine, and her waist.  
Her long hair was draped alluringly over one shoulder......did she even bite her lip.....?

Malcolm swallowed thickly. 

The siren song. 

He was lost. 

oOo

The covers were folded back. 

Sam nestling back amongst the pillows. 

Fresh from the shower. 

Reaching over, she patted the mattress beside her. Eyebrows raised, asking him a question. 

No words necessary. 

The bedside light still on. 

Kneeling, the bed giving beneath his weight as he joined her. 

Nestling himself into her warmth. Tucked onto her breast. 

Her arm came around his head. Teasing his hair. Stroking it. 

And the scent of her! 

It nigh on drove him to madness. 

"Oh fuck, Sam......it's so good to be home....."


	22. Trust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Sam....close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation from the last chapter. 
> 
> The second of the chapters with a sexy edge. 
> 
> It's all about the closeness. The bond. The love.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.  
TRUST.

Beneath his cheek Malcolm could hear the solid and steady beat of his wife's heart. 

Regular. 

The percussion of life. 

It was soothing. 

The hot bath had eased Malcolm's physical aches, if not his mental ones. 

Warm now, finally. Muscles relaxed at least.

Being in his own bed felt like heaven, it was that feeling of security that the bed in the cottage just couldn't give him. 

The smell of the sheets, his own pillows, the familiarity, the surroundings. 

It was as far removed from Scarba as it could possibly be. 

Although tired, Malcolm felt as if he'd been wound up, like a clockwork toy. His spring at breaking point.  
Wired. Spine tinglingly alert. 

Closing his eyes didn't help, because he was instantly transported back to the bothy.  
Wind. Torrential rain. Beating outside.  
Lying with Jamie, out of his mind with worry, petrified for himself, but more for his friend , knowing he was ill and could not hold out much longer. 

A small sob left him and he pressed himself closer. 

He was hard again.

Of course he was. 

How could he not be? 

This was His Wife. Beautiful, sexy, wonderful. Everything. 

If anyone could dispel those dreadful visions it was She. The rhythmic throb of the blood passing through her ventricles replacing the relentless roar of the storm in his mind. Chasing it away. 

Sam, sensing his inner struggle, pressed her nose into his hair, breathing in, feeling it tickle her nose. Her warm breath against the top of his skull. 

Feeling him pushing himself against her thigh. 

Knowing. 

Not responding....

 _Yet._

Tonight it must be Malcolm making the first move. 

Only if _he_ wanted to......it was his choice to dictate how much he wanted....or how little.  
It was for him to decide, and to act accordingly. 

Sam would follow his lead. 

She didn't have to wait long. 

Such a subtle movement. His hand coming up, sliding deftly beneath her T shirt. His fingertips exploring the dip of her stomach, the angle of her hip, working it's way slowly upwards.

Around and under the side swell of her breast, before cupping it gently in his large hand. Long fingers curving around it, stroking, then kneading, his thumb grazing across her nipple. 

Listening for the tell-tale intake of breath he hoped to illicit, the sound that told him this was what she wanted too.

"Alright darl?" 

Her reply was a kiss on the top of his head. Biting her lip at the feel of his thumb and forefinger now rolling her pink knub gently between them, it hardened beneath his touch and became erect, making her hips jerk towards him involuntarily. 

She tried to manoeuvre herself to kiss him, but his head was below hers, and the furthest she could reach was his forehead.  
The clever man cottoned on. Raising his face towards her. Stretching his neck upwards. Seeking to connect.

Lips touched lips. 

Almost chaste at first, tentative. As if they were young lovers kissing for the very first time.  
He tasted salty somehow, but his mouth was so silken against her own, the tip of his tongue penetrating, begging entrance. 

Sam could not keep the wanton moan from her throat as his tongue teased hers, the message was loud and clear.....in a single moment the kiss changed.....plundering, insistent, needy. 

His hand squeezing now, becoming rougher and less controlled. 

Shifting himself slightly, Malcolm's caress moved down between their bodies, smoothing across her skin, practised and competent. Parting her thighs a little.  
Questing fingers finding their goal, circling then pushing inside her, making her gasp. 

"This okay......?" 

Whispering the words hotly into her ear, as he broke from her mouth, searching out the skin of her jaw, down her neck, mapping the throat. Little kisses, gentle bites, halting at the point where it met her shoulder.  
Suckling there. Marking her. Claiming. 

This was what she wanted most, her knees weak as water, almost a tremble between her legs, the sensation of his tender fingers inside her.  
Maddeningly drawing her out of herself, working her up skilfully towards climax, his thumb against her clit. Sliding himself down her body slightly so as to be able to close his lips around one nipple at the same time.  
Licking and teasing it, until she was almost senseless with lust. 

She should be touching him.....shouldn't she? 

Giving him some pleasure in return, fondling that beautiful erection which was pressed so firmly against her leg, but her focus was gone, fixed entirely upon his hand, it's movement and the fact that he was giving her such wicked jolts of electric desire that it was all she could do to hold back from just fucking herself into oblivion against his hand. 

As for Malcolm, he was never happier. Raising himself from her just enough to be able to see her face. 

Flushed, sweaty, her eyes widely dilated with a wild sexual abandonment, lips parted, breathing becoming increasingly clipped and tight as she fought valiantly to hold on to her sanity. 

"Malc...... _please_..." 

She wasn't even sure what she was asking for. She just knew she didn't want it to stop. 

"More......" she managed to choke out. 

She wanted it all......craving every touch, the glorious contact of her skin with his. She wanted harder, faster. She wanted to be consumed. Devoured. Loved. 

Coming apart at the seams. Short little puffs and gasps all she was capable of.  
Arching herself into the feel of those long dexterous fingers curling, his thumb circling her most sensitive spot.  
Unravelling before his very eyes. 

"That's it darling.......there it is......." 

And there it was indeed. 

Her moans suddenly choked off. Mouth falling open. Ecstasy as she felt herself tip over. Her inner walls contracting against his digits. The pulse so strong that she wanted to cry out. 

All she could do was press herself closer to him, taking him further inside her. 

"Oh _Malc_....." 

It felt like forever. The throb of her body exquisitely tuned to her husband. 

Malcolm could hardly resist a little smile of satisfaction. He'd brought her to this. Made her beg for his touch.  
It made him feel wonderful. 

"So fucking perfect." He murmured. 

Still shaking against him, she sank down into his embrace as he removed his hand, resting it on her thigh for a moment as she came down from the throes. Hearing her little gasps of love close to his ear. 

"You're so beautiful when you come." He whispered, levering himself higher on her torso, in order to kiss her again. 

His hand now reaching up to touch her cheek gently. 

Still deep in the moment, Sam twisted her head to the side, placing fervent kisses against his palm.  
Without even thinking his fingertips dragged over her parted lips and she pulled them into her mouth with an eagerness that astonished him, sucking on them greedily. Eyes fluttering shut.  
Tasting herself, her lips wet with her own saliva. 

Malcolm's cock jerked uncontrollably in his trousers, straining upwards, fuck....he could easily have come himself, from that act alone.  
He frotted himself impulsively against her, as she licked his thumb, her eyes focussed on his completely. 

"Fuck....Sam!" He murmured, finally withdrawing. 

Her eyes flamed bright with unbridled passion.

She rolled him over onto his back without warning, using his shoulders as leverage. Her burning gaze never leaving his face. 

Lifting his T shirt, she stroked her splayed hands up the sides of his chest, before bringing her fingers to the centre and running down towards his navel again. Thumbs meeting in the middle.  
Placing a kiss over first one nipple, then the other. 

He shivered. 

"Take it off." She requested gently, tugging the hem of his top. " _Please_...."

Malcolm hesitated. A sudden crisis of confidence. The light was on. His mind regressed to those first days when they fucked in the dark, because he was so afraid.  
Didn't want her to see him naked. Ashamed of what he looked like.  
What she might think. Terrified he'd disappoint her. 

Samantha Tucker had no such qualms. Not then or now. Never did have.  
Malcolm's body delighted her. She didn't care about his age. She certainly didn't waste time agonising over a little bit of flab on his tummy.  
Nothing like that mattered to her. It wasn't about that.

She loved him. 

Because he was _Malcolm_. 

All the rest was immaterial. He was all man. He was HER man. She never felt for anyone her own age the way she felt about Malcolm. No one measured up to him in her eyes. Not even close.

So he did as he was told. 

Reluctantly. 

Slipping his T shirt over his head.

"Let me touch you......" 

Her hand was moving down between their bodies as she spoke, smoothing across the V where hip flexors meet obliques in his lower abdomen. 

He was not loose here. 

His musculature from hip to pubis was tight and flat, a small fuzz of wiry hair just below his belly button which she adored. 

He watched as her eyes roamed over him, drinking him in, not a hint of disgust or amusement did he catch on her face.  
Just warm satisfaction, desire, strong attraction. 

No, he wasn't perfect. Who cared? Not she. Not one bit. 

Malcolm hissed as she reached the bulge in his trousers with the back of her hand, unable to turn it round in the confined space created by their proximity to each other. 

" _Sam_.....!" His voice carried a warning, as he bucked himself backwards, away from her. 

Her brows knitted together in consternation. 

"Why can't I touch you?" 

"You don't have to....."

"Malcolm, don't do this......I want to...... _please_....." 

"You sure? I don't mind......"

His wife frowned down at him, raising herself onto one elbow. 

"Why would I not want to......I love touching you......"

Malcolm blushed like a girl. 

Couldn't look at her, eyes flitting away, embarrassed. 

Always ready to give, less eager to receive. 

Apologetic. 

"I love you Malc.....I missed you.....I missed..... _this_......"

She was so sure. It convinced him. No need to think further. 

Malcolm surrendered himself willingly.  
Consenting. 

Obeying her wish, he shifted himself slightly, allowing her more room. 

His wife gave him a little encouraging smile. 

"I thought we'd addressed this......long long ago......I'm yours Malcolm Tucker.....for always."

Turning her hand over she palmed him gently. The fabric of his trousers stretched tight against his already weeping cock. 

The slightest touch from her made him tremble. His thighs shaking. Sucking in a sip of air sharply. 

"Oh _fuck_......"

Throwing back the covers, Sam sat up, kneeling on the mattress beside him. Tucking her hair seductively behind one ear.  
Looking down, her gaze warm, inviting, wanting. 

He had just made her feel like a Queen, now she wanted to reciprocate. Lavishing all her attention on his state of arousal. 

Except she had the power to make him feel like a God. 

Christ! What she saw in him he'd never know. He just knew it was true. It was real. 

The most real thing he'd ever known. 

Mesmerised as she stripped off her own T shirt, tossing it aside. The sight of her bare breasts made him lift his hips towards her in spite of himself. 

God! He loved her tits!  
Such a pleasing shape, like teardrops.....even after feeding three bairns.  
Wonderfully peachy soft and malleable, yielding beneath his hands whenever he caressed them.  
Her skin was perfect. The nipples dark and pert, and so very sensitive. 

Malcolm closed his eyes. 

Relishing the feel of her small delicate fingers playing against his skin, working their way lower. 

Very slowly she began to open his buttons. 

One button.....

He held his breath, screwing his eyes tighter. Moaning. 

" _Please_......" 

His penis jumped with anticipation. 

Christ! He felt as if it was the first time he'd ever been with a woman, all over again. 

_Why?_

For fuck's sake.....what was she doing to him? 

Such a fucking tease! 

Two buttons....

Malcolm flung his left arm up, covering his eyes. Whilst his right hand gripped the sheets at his side, more little whimpering sounds of desperation coming from him. 

Surely she must be disappointed when she looked at him?

How could she not be? 

Not in shape. Saggy bits. Wrinkles. Not buff and fit.......not _young_ for fucks sake.......Jesus! 

This head space he was in.........going just a tiny bit fucking mental. 

"Malcolm, don't hide from me......why so coy all of a sudden ......?"

He almost writhed away, but his body betrayed him. 

It had other ideas, his hips lifted towards her touch almost against his will. Body crying out for more stimulation. Out of control. 

Leaning over him, kneeling up, her hair fell forwards, brushing his face, so soft, so fragrant. Sending his last remaining senses reeling.  
Lips touching his gently as she slid her hand down beneath the soft fabric and connected with his bare foreskin for the first time, pushing it back. 

Fuck, he didn't think it was possible to get any harder. 

Such a small hand she had. But so fucking skilful. She knew how to push all his buttons.  
How to render him a puddle of goo with her effortless caress. 

She stroked his underside with just her spit wet index finger, up and down, up and down, up and down his shaft, her fingertip tracing every ripple and ridge, agonisingly slowly, as if committing it to memory.  
As he sighed and groaned helplessly. 

When she began circling the sensitive frenulum just at the rim, he thought he would actually go mad. 

Tossing his head from side to side, moaning with lust, his arm still clamped firmly over his eyes. 

He couldn't do this.....he was too close, too soon......

Bringing his right hand across, he laid it over hers. Arresting her movement. Almost breathless with need.

"Love...... _please_......give me a moment......I'm in serious danger of disgracing myself here." His voice was thin and strained, almost inaudible. 

"It doesn't matter Malcolm......why can't you just relax.....enjoy it?" 

"Just......just......wait a bit......to let me calm down, yeah.....I'm so fucking excited I can't hold it.......and I want to.....I want it to last a bit longer than two frickin' seconds......." 

"Just relax.....let go.....it doesn't matter Malcolm, it really doesn't."

And it didn't. That was just it. Not to her. She didn't care, it wasn't about stamina, or prowess, or being a man, or any of that crap.

It was about love. Hers for him. The bond between them. Her making him feel this fucking special. Wanting him. Pleasing him. Cherishing every moment. 

She remained quite still however, her small fingers held loosely beneath his, waiting patiently as he took in a series of breaths, in and out.  
Allowing the blood which pumped hot as lava through his veins to cool, steadying himself. 

The fingers of her other hand closed around his left arm, pulling it away from across his forehead gently. 

"You can look Malcolm, please don't hide yourself from me. I'm your wife, and I want you to see......because you're beautiful......so, so beautiful.....and I want you to see how much you mean to me......" 

Tears came. 

A sudden surge. 

He couldn't fucking stop them.....

......because she was just being so fucking tender with him, so caring, she thought he was _beautiful_ for fucks sake.... _him_.....beautiful? Not a word he equated with himself.  
Because she was gentle and thoughtful to his needs......because he loved her so fucking much.....  
........because he was very tired, very stressed, and so, so agonisingly close......keening, desperate for release. 

Looking down his chest, he drew his own hand away, allowing her to touch him properly for the first time. 

Watching those deft fingers close around him fully, firm but slow strokes. Along his thickened shaft, making it become more engorged and impossibly stiff under her ministrations. 

Lifting his gaze. 

Their eyes met and held. 

And what did she see there? 

As she looked so lovingly down at him from above. 

Trust. 

Just that. 

She saw that he had placed himself willingly into her hands. 

Literally and figuratively.

Complete and utter surrender. 

He trusted her implicitly. 

She cared deeply for him, and he knew it. Totally immersed in that love. 

Her touch was everything he focussed on now, his eyes becoming darker, that tell-tale sharp little hiss of breath which he would take when he was really close, about to come, the pressure building, no return, no holding back. 

She sped up. Slow and sensual was one thing, but more friction would draw him out and render him completely powerless to prevent himself rushing to completion. 

Pulling his glance away from hers, he looked down at himself again.....his cock thick and heavy and surrounded by her clasped fingers, seeing her thumb sweep over his slit....applying a little pressure.......and _oh fuck_ , that did it!

All she fucking wrote!

He watched himself ejaculate hard, unable to tear his gaze away. 

Pumping out onto her hand but mostly on his own stomach, his hips rhythmically lifting and falling as he pulsed. 

"Oh sweet Jesus, Sam!" He gasped. 

Then sinking back, boneless and empty. Limp as a rag. Breathing heavily. 

Done for. 

He looked on, fascinated, as his wife licked her fingers, then leaned over him once more to kiss him sweetly. 

"Fucking fuck me....." He whispered, tasting his own semen from her lips. 

"Later my darling......." She replied languidly. "......sleep now, hmm?"

A naughty little smile played across her luscious mouth, as she reached to the cabinet beside her for some tissues. 

Wiping the mess from his belly without fuss, then throwing them aside.  
She lay down at his side, nestling close to his sweaty body, bringing the duvet over to cover them both. 

"I fucking love you Sam......you're all I could think about on that fucking island.....just getting back to you.....it's what kept me going."

"Hush Malc.......sleep now. You're tired, emotional, traumatised.......you need to rest properly. Snuggle up to me....we'll talk more tomorrow.....okay?"

Malcolm yawned. 

"Yeah.....I'm fucking knackered.....especially after that.....hey Sam.....?"

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Can we make love later? I really want to.......but I don't think I could quite manage it just now....."

"Whenever you like, whenever you're ready.......there's no time limit Malc......no pressure.....I love you.....I'm here for you, just so long as you don't shut me out. That's all I ask."

"I won't Sam. I promise. I'm learning, really I am......we'll talk......we will.....I love you too, so fucking much."

Reaching to her side, Sam kissed him tenderly. Furry cheeks, forehead, eyelids, and finally, his willing mouth. Nuzzling him affectionately, a fond smile as she pulled away. 

"Go to sleep Malcolm......tomorrow is another day......" 

"Mmmm!" He murmured with drowsy contentment. 

Hunkering down into her arms.

"Dearest idiot!" She whispered.


	23. Union.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Sam closer still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third and final chapter of the 'intimacy' chapters. 
> 
> Closeness, love and affirmation, plus a bit of Malcolm's past hangups.
> 
> For those not old enough (unlike me!) to remember, _Randall and Hopkirk:Deceased_ was a series that began in 1969. Starring Mike Pratt and Kenneth Cope. (Called 'My Partner the Ghost' in the US) Hopkirk is murdered in the first episode and returns as a ghost, but only Randall can see him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.  
UNION.

_Monday morning....._

Malcolm Tucker was dreaming. 

A weird, convoluted dream, with a _'Randall and Hopkirk: Deceased'_ vibe to it.  
In which he was back working at Number Ten, with Jamie at his side, except his friend was dead, appearing dressed in a white suit.....and only Malcolm could see him. 

Waking, he spiralled out of this disturbing scenario to find himself wound around his wife somehow, his legs dovetailed with hers, his left arm flung haphazardly over her body.  
His other arm, which was trapped beneath him, had gone to sleep, and when he attempted to move it, it was like the boy Harry Potter's limb after Professor Lockhart miscast the spell which completely removed the bone.  
Heavy as lead, limp......and with pins and needles running through it. 

Sam stirred, trying to extricate herself from his clinging embrace so that she could yawn and stretch. 

"What time is it?" She murmured, removing his sweaty arm from across her stomach. 

"Half five." Came the sleepy reply. 

"Oh, for heavens sake! Why are you awake so bloody early?" 

"Had a crazy fucked up dream." He nuzzled against her, attached firmly to her side like a conjoined twin.

"Right! Nothing new there then!" She groaned. "Is this leading where I think it's leading?" 

Her husband gave a little apologetic sigh. 

"Possibly......." He replied sheepishly, snuggling closer still. 

" _Honestly!_ It's like sleeping with a squid.....or a sweaty octopus.....all tentacles.....with suckers....." 

His face fell, raising his eyebrows, looking up at her, crestfallen, only to see amusement in her expression, a ghost of a smile, then he knew, she was teasing him, she loved it really.

"First time I've bin warm since I got on that fucking boat." He said grumpily. 

"Awww, baby.....c'mere......I missed you so much....." She cooed, tugging him into her warm velvety softness. 

_Such a mind fuck._

To be here with her, right now, in this moment. Safe. Protected. 

Curled against her body, feeling completely at ease. Comfortable.  
How one feels when they don a favourite old sweater, or a pair of comfy worn in slippers. 

Pure unadulterated joy.....

It hadn't always been like this. 

Stupid really. 

The way he'd been when they first got together. 

Looking away shyly when she undressed. Not stripping himself off in front of her. Light switched off when they made love. 

Ridiculous. 

Eventually she'd challenged him. 

"Why are you so ashamed? Is it because you're older than me? What is it exactly? You think you're not attractive? I'm too young for you? You're not defiling me Malcolm....I'm a consenting adult......thirty for Christ's sake......it's not dirty or disgusting that we're together.....I want you..... I love you." 

Malcolm wasn't even sure when it changed inside his head. Feeling that she honoured him every time she allowed him in. Being invited to enter her. He felt privileged. It took a while before he finally came to terms with it all, got it straight in his mind.  
Probably when their first son was born. 

Samantha Cassidy wasn't going anywhere. Fact.  
Nor was she going to _'come to her senses'_ and fuck off and leave him. She was here for the long haul. She really _did_ love him. All of him. Every bit. 

Remembering the first time he watched her breastfeeding their child. _HIS_ child. Fucking hell! Messed with his head.....daft cunt.....he went all weepy and couldn't tear his eyes away from the two of them.

They were _HIS_......a part of his life now, for good. 

It was a very gradual thawing. 

Sometimes in frustration at his insecurity or lack of 'gumption', she'd take the bull by the proverbial horns...... insinuate herself into his lap when he was busy writing. Arms around his neck.  
Kissing him to within an inch of his life, her tongue down his throat. Rendering him flushed and breathless.  
Or she'd part his knees as he sat in the chair, kneel between them, looking up into his face as she opened his belt, button and fly, taking him out to just stroke him, or fellate him until he was a complete fucking helpless mess, gasping for air, barely able to prevent himself from sliding down onto the floor. 

Sam was a modern woman certainly, unlike the somewhat repressed generation before.....essentially Malcolm's generation.....she harboured no issues about the sharing of sexual favours. She knew what she liked and she knew how to either get it, or ask for it. 

But here was the thing that Malcolm found tough. It worked both ways for her.  
Part of the deal.  
An integral part of being in a close and loving relationship....at least the way she saw it. 

Just as he was _'available'_ to her in this way......so he was granted unconditional access. He could ask for what _HE_ wanted too. 

Now, Malcolm was an affectionate man, making love was so much more than just sex, it was a very big deal for him. In short, he loved loving. It was all about the closeness, the intimacy, rather than just the end payoff. 

But this?

This was something he'd never even dreamed of....let alone dared ask for.....and he'd been married before for fucks sake!

Sam made it quite clear. It was about what _HE_ liked too....and she learned from him.....quickly.  
Read him like a book.  
How to pick up on his moods and fancies, when he was particularly wound up, the times when he felt most horny. The noises he made when he was very turned on, or about to come, the things she did to him that made him beg or whimper. 

When they were alone together, usually at home, her body was his for the taking.  
She told him so..... _carte blanche_.....if he was feeling randy, he shouldn't ignore or hide it.....he should express it, he could kiss her, touch her......undress her, ask her for sex......and she would, more often than not, happily acquiesce.  
She _encouraged_ him to ask rather than be wanting.....  
Once, when he confessed himself reluctant to push the matter, she actually made a point of stripping sexily, right in front of him, whilst holding him a captive audience. Almost daring him to shie away. 

"You can look......I _want_ you to look, Malcolm.....I _like_ you to look....."

He came.....untouched......in his fucking pants. 

She'd never been thus coy with him.....not once. No hang ups there whatever.  
Fuck knew why.....he could never understand it.  
Why she fancied him the way she did. 

But she _REALLY_ did. 

He was what she wanted. Turned her on. Pushed all her buttons apparently. The only man who could make her truly happy. 

Fucking marvellous. 

Now, six years down the line, he finally felt at home with it all. He got it. She was his.....but more to the point......he was _HERS_.....hook, line and fucking sinker. 

Luckiest fucker alive.

oOo

"Can I....?" He was tentative, even now.....which made her smile. Part of him probably always would be. 

Her reply was to give him _that_ look. 

Reaching forwards, she kissed his mouth hungrily, latching on, pushing him onto his back as she did so. 

Almost before he knew it she was sitting astride him. 

Straddling the tops of his thighs. Bare breasted. Looking down at him with that most serene, utterly gorgeous look on her face.  
So fucking beautiful. 

Eyes dancing with an inner light which captivated him.  
Her nipples erect, standing pert and proud. 

The sight of her like this, all fierce and brazen, made his cock harden instantly, rising in all its glory just in front of where her thighs rested. 

His hands came to rest gently on her hips. Fingers digging into her soft flesh. 

"You're so perfect Sam." He breathed. "You know you do my fucking head in......"

Placing her small hands over his larger ones, she intertwined their fingers, pulling him up towards her until they were almost chest to chest.  
Malcolm's focus was concentrated on how hot and wet she felt against him, with no foreplay other than this.

Ought he not have touched her first, teased her a little, tested her readiness? 

It seemed a little late now. 

Her arms wound around his neck, an open palm cradling the back of his head. Closing her mouth over his, kissing him until he was quite dizzy with lust. 

"Where do you want me darling?" She asked breathlessly, pulling back. "The choice is yours....." 

"It is? _Oh fuck_......." He swallowed thickly, lightheaded, as his brain began to turn to mush. 

Malcolm was not one to force the issue of positions, he didn't dare express much of a preference either way. Sam, in contrast, was not a girl to always lie back and think of England while she was roundly fucked, she liked to be in charge from time to time, and her husband loved it. 

So turned on.

How could he not be?

Couldn't even think straight, let alone make a decision on which way he wanted to take her! 

She waited patiently for his answer, one eye brow raised, her lips full and luscious, as she moistened them slowly, before touching his own with little pecks until he thought he just might possibly explode. 

"On top darling.....I want you on top......I like it....." He managed to articulate, almost apologetically. 

"Good choice!" 

Without waiting for more words or deeds, she raised herself up and away from his body.  
Positioning herself, angling her pubis towards him, before sinking down again with a soft sigh. 

Taking him inside her fully. 

"Oh _Christ!_ " He whispered, bringing his own arms around her, hands splayed out against her back, pressing her close. "Don't fucking move Sam.....give me a minute for the love of fuck........" 

A series of staccato gasps as he tried to calm himself, adjusting to the feel of the deep penetration, closing his eyes, trying to focus on anything but how deliciously tight she felt around him, and how he could easily just come then and there. 

Then he suddenly realised something......

"Sam..... _fuck_......we're being extra careful yeah? I'm not wearing a condom......." 

As if to reply, his wife lifted herself slightly, before sinking down onto his cock a second time, slowly and deliberately, biting her lip, as she settled herself again. 

"Oh holy _fuck_!" He cried, grabbing her hard and holding on tight as she continued to move.  
Up and down. Up and down. Raising and lowering herself. Impaled on his thick shaft. 

It was too much. 

Much to much. 

Tight, wet cunt. Him......bare.....deep inside her, every ridge, every vein throbbing. 

One thrust upwards. 

He had to. Because he couldn't _not_.....because she was so fucking hot, and he wanted to feel this so fucking badly. He'd thought about this very moment, many times, as he lay in the bothy with only Jamie McDonald for company......

A gasp from her open mouth as she took him deeper. 

"Fuck up into me Malcolm...... _please_......" She murmured, her searing lips close to the lobe of his left ear. 

And God help him he did. 

Her back arched, legs clamped astride his lap, presenting her breasts to him with each upward shunt of his prick. Riding him roughly now as he pressed into her. 

Throwing back her head with the rhythmic undulations of their conjoined bodies.  
The sound of skin on skin almost carnal as the speed built between them. 

"Shit.....Sam.....I'm gonna come......" He managed to hiss out, between gasps for air. 

Red faced, sweaty......on a collision course towards completion, which he desperately wanted to delay happening so soon, but seemed powerless to fight against. Consumed as he was with desire. 

Until that is, he realised she was crying.......quietly and without histrionics.....little sniffs and tears of emotion leaching from her as he fucked her senseless.

If anything would be calculated to take his mind from climax, it was that..... _alert, alert_.....blood rerouting.....away from his manhood and back to his brain......giving him clarity.....he slowed his pace. 

Held her close, whispered to her. 

"Hey, Sam......darling.....it's okay......it's okay.......what is it.....tell me.....am I hurting you.....?"

Just an emphatic shake of the head to the negative was the only response, but she pushed herself closer, as if she couldn't possibly take him deep enough, or feel every last inch of him, or want him more. 

"I thought I'd lost you....." She spoke through her gentle sobs, her breath hitching from time to time.

"Oh, sweetheart......you wouldn't get rid of me that easily......trust me......" 

His mouth found hers, reestablishing their connection, kissing her with a great tenderness, until she pulled back, wiping her own face, before placing her hands on both bearded cheeks, cupping them, lifting his chin, looking down into his eyes. 

"When the phone they tracked was yours, and they told us, only one survivor, I felt so terribly guilty, I thought you'd made it and Jamie hadn't....then when the stretcher was bought in.....and it was Jamie laying there.......not you....." She stopped, unable to find the words. 

"Oh my poor darling......" 

With renewed vigour Malcolm thrust hard into her, bringing her out of herself, back into the moment. 

She cried out, gripping his torso, marking his delicate pale skin.

_"Malcolm!"_

His name died on her lips. 

An amen to the God of Fuck. 

He was so close now.... somewhat disappointed, because he wanted to bring her to orgasm first, always thinking of her pleasure before his own, but there was absolutely nothing he could do, he couldn't hold it any longer. 

Out of control. 

Every sense he possessed, every fibre, every nerve cried out within him.  
Chasing that perfect moment, pressure building, heart pounding, blood pumping, the glorious moment when everything felt right with the world. He was whole. Complete. Utterly euphoric.

"Fuck....Sam.....I love you so fucking much......I'm so fucking close......" 

"Come Malc......just come..... _please_......just let go.....don't hold back..... _just fuck me_.....oh God......fuck me harder......" 

That was all it took......

His breath was suddenly choked off as if his throat had been cut. Head flung back. 

He released in complete silence. 

Eyes wide, locked on hers the entire time as he pulsed deep inside her. Hips convulsing, propelling him forwards. 

His intensity and the root of his erect shaft pressed against her clit was enough to tip her over the edge in his wake. The contracting of her inner walls drawing out his ejaculation. 

Coming and coming, until he was forced to take a huge breath to prevent himself from blacking out. 

They clung to each other. His head jammed between her breasts, her arms tightly clasped around it. 

Still throbbing. 

Breath, tears, sweat, all mingling. 

The strength of their union tight as two coiled springs as their bodies pressed together. 

It was some time before their dual tensity began to relax. Breathing gradually calming. Malcolm's fingers reaching up to brush tendrils of her wet hair back from her forehead.  
Leaning into her, kissing her deeply. 

Her hands stroked across his cooling skin....shoulders, neck, ears, and up into his hair, combing through it with her fingers. A trickle of perspiration ran between his shoulder blades.  
Returning his kisses, still weeping softly. 

"Oh Malc....you're so _beautiful_.....I love you so much......" She whispered. 

They sat together like this for some time, on top of the crumpled, damp bed sheets.  
Caressing each other. 

Coming down. 

Reluctant to break their union. 

Eventually, she moved off him, sinking down. Turning herself around, she lay back into his embrace, between his legs. His arms came across her front as he rested himself back amongst the pillows propped against the headboard. Ear close to ear. Chin on her shoulder. 

Sam gave a deep sigh of contentment.  
Togetherness.  
Basking in the warmth of their love and the smell of their sex. 

The sun was up, it's first rays piercing the gap in the curtains. 

An orange glow. 

"So much for being careful." He commented eventually, a little smile into the soft skin of her neck.

She twisted her head to the side to brush her lips to his bearded cheek. 

"Hopefully the Pill will be enough.....although if it isn't.....it's too fucking late now.....and anyway, I don't care." 

"You'll care in a couple of months time when you come to me and tell me you're up the duff.....again"

A gentle laugh as she wiped a hand under her runny nose. 

"If you've got me pregnant again right here and now, it'll be a fucking miracle." 

"Don't knock the super human power of my sperm, wife.....it happened with both Jamie and Robbie....and we were trying for all of one month before you fell with Grace......"

"Shut up Malcolm....I told you....I don't care.....would you care? If I was, I mean....?"

"What do _you_ think.....?"

oOo

They dozed in a delicious post coital state of inertia. 

The duvet hauled up to cover them, dreamless and sated. 

Malcolm woke again at seven thirty. 

"Sam.....darling?" He murmured, releasing her from his vice like embrace. 

She stirred, opening her eyes, smiling up at him with such adoration. 

"Is it time to get up?" Yawning she stretched herself with feline grace.

"Pretty much....five more minutes.....hmmmm?" He nuzzled her gently with his beaky nose.  
"I promised Grace I'd give you a special cuddle.....she said I should......Sam, can I talk to you about what happened out at sea later.....?"

His wife stroked his face with great tenderness. 

"Of course! I want to hear.......er.....a special cuddle.....what's that all about?"

"Trust me. You don't wanna know!" Malcolm chuckled. "You taking Jamie and Robbie to school this morning?" 

Sam groaned. 

"Yeah......God....I'll have to get up.....I need a shower....bad....I could do with a couple more hours sleep!"

"I'll help get the kids up, do them some brekko......then I'll take Grace to nursery, drop her off......after that we'll go visit Jamie, yeah? I need to see him....make sure he's okay."

"Okay sweetie. You're so bloody wonderful you know that? This afternoon, we'll talk.....yeah.....?" 

"....... _OH CHRIST!"_

She suddenly blurted. 

"Fuck! Sam! You made me jump! What the fuck is it?"

"I totally forgot......Oh Malc.....shit.......oh lord.....please don't be angry with me......"

Malcolm frowned. 

"What the fuck have you done?"

"I might have agreed to a newspaper interview.....with the Herald......you and me.....about your ordeal....."

She waited for the explosion......it didn't come......

_"Okayyy......"_

His wife launched into her explanation. Talking nineteen to the dozen. 

"They came to the cottage, to do an article, when you were discovered to be missing.....Nance said it would be good to get the word out.....might help find you......but it's not her fault.....I agreed to it, fuck it all.....I was beside myself with worry, I would have agreed to anything that I thought might help....but on the condition that they didn't print a load of crap about you, I said we'd give them an exclusive when you were found......I can't go back on it now....I'll have to ring them..... _oh bollocks_.....are you cross with me......?"

Malcolm held his hands up in surrender, stopping her flow. Smiling. 

"Sam! Hush......" Drawing her close he kissed her sweetly. "I'm not angry, okay? I'll do their fucking interview.....but not today......today is spoken for.......tomorrow maybe......"

Raising her eyebrows, she regarded him incredulously. 

"Really? Seriously.....I thought you'd fucking kill me......I was dreading telling you.....knowing your opinion of the press......the way they've treated you in the past...."

"Darling listen to me. You were under a huge amount of stress and pressure.  
I understand.....I hadn't paused to really think about what it must have been like for you......or Ellie......alone there, with the children to think about. Not until Grace said how brave you were.....I was only thinking about what was happening to us....Jamie and me.....so.....don't worry about it......ring them, we'll do it tomorrow. Give them their story, the sooner we get it over the better."

Sam leaned in and kissed him lovingly again, touching his face.

"Grace said I was brave?"

"Yeah.....she's fucking _ridiculously_ bright that kid, you know.....and very articulate..."

"She's your daughter Malcolm.....what do you expect?"


	24. Confessions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is in a good mood. 
> 
> They go to visit Jamie in hospital. 
> 
> During the day Malcolm makes several confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little nod to Malcolm's visit to Ollie when he has he appendix out, with the hand dispenser. Since I'm sure Malcolm would remember it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR  
CONFESSIONS.

_Monday lunchtime......_

Sam could tell that Malcolm was feeling better. 

He was home, he was safe, he was whole. 

He'd spent quality time with his kids , he'd had great sex with his wonderful wife. 

He was all twinkly. 

Impossibly upbeat.

Walking from the car park, his hand reached for hers, interlacing their fingers. 

Eliciting a wry smile from her. 

As they entered the ward, she witnessed a little glimpse of the old Malcolm, the one she rarely saw these days. The one who could turn on the charm offensive just before removing your innards with a spoon. 

Oozing charisma. 

"Morning Sister.....!" His smile was three foot wide across his face. 

"......Mr McDonald? He's a wee streak o' tartan.....looks about 15 but he's actually 45....due to drinking the blood of hapless virgins and bathing daily in asses milk.....?" 

"Bed ten.....side room, third on the right...." The ward manager giggled in a rather coquettish way. 

"And do I need to......?" Malcolm indicated the antiseptic hand dispenser on the wall. 

"Yes please.....are you, by any chance, Mr Tucker?" 

"Matron knows best eh? I am......why?" 

"Oh, it's nothing....it's just that Mr McDonald said I'd know you when I saw you....." 

She nodded a brief acknowledgement to Sam, who gave a barely disguised snort of laughter. 

"Ah....I see.....my reputation goes before me does it?" Malcolm gave a rictus grin, his eyes sharp. 

"Well, you're less severe and nicer looking than he described you." She replied, putting down the pen with which she'd been writing, regarding him more closely. 

Laving his hands with the gel briefly, Malcolm huffed and began to move away in the direction the nurse had indicated. 

"Oh aye? What did he say.....?" 

"Um.....he, er...... _'Gandalf's much older brother......but with the same attack eyebrows'_....."

"Wait till I see that worthless wee bag o'shite......" Malcolm growled in mock anger. 

Looking to his side, he caught Sam trying to hide her snigger. 

"What's wi' you?" He challenged. 

Sam was beyond speech. 

oOo

Jamie McDonald was sitting up, propped with pillows. The pain he'd endured over the previous days still etched on his face.  
In fact, as Malcolm and Sam entered, he was just in the process of having those pillows plumped for him by the Staff nurse.  
A bowl of dirty water, towel and shaving gear on the table beside the bed. 

Above him, suspended, was a triangular handle on a chain, which he clutched with his good arm, the best to assist her. Easing himself gingerly backwards.  
From his side a plastic tube still snaked, one end disappearing into his chest cavity, some rather viscous looking gunk coming from it, collected in a bottle affixed to the bedstead.  
Unable to bath or shower, he had endured being stripped and washed by hand. Now freshly robed for the occasion in a somewhat unflattering blue hospital gown, with tapes at the back for ease of changing dressings, ablutions, and the like. 

"Enjoyed your blanket bath?" A grey head peered round the door jamb. "Watch him love......he's nowt but trouble......but he loves nothing better than a rough flannel rubbed round his backside......"

Malcolm bowled in, addressing the young lass with a cheeky smile, Sam following behind in his wake. 

Jamie's face brightened visibly at the sight of his friend. 

"Malc! Mate! " He cried, then coughed violently for his pains. Slumping back and holding himself across the stomach with his good arm. 

"Careful.....don't get over excited......you'll pull those muscles again......" the nurse admonished him, clucking around her patient, making sure he was settled comfortably, smoothing his sheets. 

She turned to Malcolm, her face stern. 

"No staying too long and making him overtired.....it was a long day yesterday and he's had a very poor night, he needs to rest." 

Malcolm Tucker looked suitably contrite. 

"Aye. Matron. No worries....." He tried a wink, but she was not impressed. 

"He's just had a bed bath and an injection, so he'll be okay for a while, then he'll need to sleep....right?"

Glancing conspiratorially at Sam, Malcolm saluted, as she left the room with a briskness which belied her kindly soul. 

"Fucking hell, sunshine....." Malcolm came to the beside once the door closed behind her. "She's worse than fucking Himmler.....Jesus....." 

"She's not really. She's fantastic, they all are.....bloody marvellous." 

Malcolm surveyed his friend critically. 

"Well! I've seen you looking better, you cunt......but you do look a little more coloured in than when I saw you Saturday at least. How'd you feel?" 

Jamie reached for Malcolm's hand and clasped onto it. 

"Thankful." He replied simply, squeezing firmly, as his friend blushed crimson.

"Where's Ellie?" Sam asked gently, leaning in and planting a kiss on Jamie's cheek. 

"She's gone down the canteen, for some lunch and a coffee.....her mum came over early to take Jess....but she's knackered Sam, I wish you'd take her home.....I want her to rest up.....but she won't do as I say......she might take it from you, or you Malc.....but not from me.....her feet were swollen this morning, but she insists on being here......" 

"Leave it to me....I'll go find her......" Sam kissed him again and went off in search of her best friend. 

The two old comrades were left alone. 

Jamie's fingers still curled around Malcolm's hand. His friend drew up a chair and sat down. 

"I can't ever thank you......there are no words Malcy......" 

"Whisht......no more.....okay? No more. It's over. You're okay......that's all that matters." 

Jamie's lip trembled, his head rested back, eyes sliding shut. 

"Without you I wouldn't fucking be here......I love you mate......I'm so grateful." 

"Aye. Well......you're welcome. You crazy wee mongrel......" Malcolm pulled his hand free, embarrassed by the tender gesture of affection, reaching for the carrier bag he'd bought in with him. ".......I got the things you wanted......" 

He began producing sundry items like rabbits from a hat. 

A big bunch of green grapes. Bananas. Peppermints. Liquorice Allsorts. Bottle of Lucozade. Private Eye fortnightly. Today's Guardian, a crossword puzzle book, a pen, some earphones, an iPod, and last but not least, 'OK' Magazine.

Then he leaned across the bed and gave his pal a brief hug. 

"There!" He said, with finality. "Now you can call off your titwank lawyers......cancel the divorce.....I've kept my side of the bargain....and some!" 

Jamie brushed away a tear, regarding all the items displayed on the wheelie table in front of him. 

"Why the fuck did you bring me 'OK' magazine.....?" 

"Thought you'd like to see all the latest B list celebrity goss.......that lass from Eastenders has got her bikini body she's always wanted......Peter Andre has had more work done.....Rihanna got her tits out....again......and that cunt off 'Strictly' is in it..... there are just some things that it's important to know mate......I actually toyed with the idea of a gay Skin mag....but this month's 'Handsome Hunks' was sold out....." 

His friend began to laugh, but dissolved into a series of tight wheezes....holding himself as pain hit. 

"Easy......easy......Jesus, Jamie......." Malcolm reached forward to help him sip from a glass of water. 

"I've torn all the muscles in my gut.....coughing.....shit, it hurts like fuck.....almost more than the rest....." 

He spluttered, then winced, easing himself back into the pillows with his friend's assistance. 

"What have the Docs said....about the arm and stuff......?" He asked, deeply concerned.

"Well, the shoulder they're happy with for now...I'll need physio, but the arm's a bit of a mess.....I think they're gonna end up putting in screws and maybe a plate, to help the bones knit together better.....they've not made a final decision yet, but it's on the cards. They don't wanna give me an anaesthetic with this fucking bad chest. Speaking of which, they're reasonably pleased with its progress, it's on the mend.....but I'm still being pumped full of penicillin and they've left the drain in for now, coz there's still some shite coming out." 

Malcolm resumed his seat, close, his knees touching the metal bed frame. 

Jamie's hand found that of his pal again, seeking eye contact, as Malcolm's glance fixed resolutely onto their clasped fingers. 

"Malcy?" 

Malcolm raised his eyes slowly and reluctantly. 

"How are _you_?" 

A shrug of the shoulders. Feigning nonchalance.

"Malc.....?" He pressed, insistently. 

"I'm fine.....I am......"

"Don't fuck wi' me bro......." 

Their gaze locked. 

Malcolm puffed out his cheeks. 

"Struggling a bit.....I guess, keep hearing the storm in ma hid.....seeing you on that fucking beach......but my Sam.....well, she's helped......yesterday, last night.....this morning......she seems to know instinctively what I need, made me feel better......and this arvo......we're gonna talk.....I'm gonna tell her what happened. All of it. I need to.......I know that......" 

"That's good mate. I'm glad. I've told Ellie........everything. She knows now. Felt like a ton weight lifting. You'll feel the same, just get it the fuck out there man......share it.....tell her, no holding back yeah?" 

His fingers squeezed again. 

Malcolm sniffed a little, then jolted himself upright. Shaking off the melancholy which threatened to engulf him.

"Oh....I almost forgot....." reaching into his coat pocket, "........the kids all made you cards......" 

He took out three envelopes. Each contained a crayon or felt pen drawing, with a hand written 'get well soon' message.  
His friend coloured, visibly moved, but smiled. 

"That's wonderful. " He breathed. "Thank them for me.....yeah?" 

Malcolm smoothed out one of the pictures. 

"This one is Grace's.....apparently, this is you and me......" The drawing was of a lone house, a fairly standard childish rendering.....a simple square, with four windows, a door, triangle roof and a chimney.....but with two people, one tall, one shorter, sitting outside with their arms entwined. 

Jamie let out a choked sob. 

"Fuck.....mate......I'm so fucking lucky.......fuck..... _shit_......" He broke without warning, and began to cry. 

Malcolm rested his arse on the edge of the bed. Held out his hands.

"C'mere you daft cunt!"

Placing his arms gently around his friend, careful to avoid hurting the injured side. 

"It'll be the drugs working....making you all emotional...... _whisht_.....c'mon now." 

The tousled brown head came to rest on his shoulder. One large hand rubbing the bare back where the gown tapes didn't quite join together. 

"There......mate.....it's alright. Hush now. You'll be right. We're good. Quit yer greetin....."

"Sorry Malc......it's just fucking overwhelming.....y'know.....I know you don't believe in the God stuff any more, but, fuck me! Someone was watchin' over us that afternoon......we're so fucking fortunate."

"We are......and I'll tell you Jamie.......me an' Him Upstairs.....we've come to a truce......I'll no' trouble him, if he doesnae trouble me.....he gave me what I wished for.....your life.....and I gave him what he wanted......my faith......so we're quits." 

"Seriously? You got your faith back.....? Fuck Malcy.....that's.....well, that's a fucking big deal........" 

"Yeah. Well.....I gotta keep my side o' the bargain. I'm no' saying I'm gonna start praying an' singing hosanna an' shit, but, well......I believe he listened, and I believe he was there.....so, it's all good. We made our peace." 

Malcolm released his grip, passing Jamie some tissue.  
Easing himself back into the pillows, his friend wiped his own face, collecting himself, quelling the sniffs, blowing his snotty nose before resting his head comfortably back. 

The door behind them opened quietly, their wives entered. 

Ellie looked completely shattered, equally tearful. Sam holding her hand.  
She immediately crossed the room to Malcolm and he hugged her tight. 

"You're coming home wi' us lass." He told her, gently. "No arguments. We're gonna feed you, get you sorted, then take you back to yours, an' put you to bed.....you need a decent rest and some proper sleep. Tomorrow I'll come pick you up and bring you to see Little Lord Fauntleroy here....no driving yourself in....okay? You got yourself, plus the wee bairn in here to think about." He laid his hand on her stomach affectionately. 

"Thank you Malcolm......thank you both......" She breathed. 

"El.....sweetheart.....please go with them, do as Malc says, yeah....I'm worried about you, an' I'm fine here....I wanna sleep now......" Jamie's face was grey with weariness, a pained expression of concern for his wife written across it. 

Sam moved to the bedside. 

"We're gonna go now.....you're tired, I can see it." 

Leaning in she kissed him goodbye, whispering into his ear. 

"We'll take good care of her Jamie, don't worry. She's just dead tired. Jess can come stay with us, so she gets a proper break. Grace'll be over the moon to have her best friend over to stay.  
Malc and I are gonna have a little chat this afternoon. He's going to tell me everything that happened. You take care.....rest up yourself now.....that injection'll be working.  
We'll be back to see you tomorrow.....get the nurse to ring us if you need anything bought it okay?"

Her husband's friend nodded. Giving a little wink of grateful thanks and understanding. 

oOo

_Monday evening......_

Life with three children was always going to be hectic.

More so than normal when another was added to the number, in the shape of young Jess McDonald. 

Malcolm wouldn't have it any other way. 

A house filled with a mixture of childish laughter and tears. 

The Tucker's made certain Ellie was settled at home for some much needed solitude. Peace and quiet from the madness of the previous days. 

Now, Malcolm and Sam finally had some time to themselves. 

On the sofa. 

Sam sitting, Malcolm curled at her side with his head in her lap. 

His eyes closed, thoughts racing. 

Her hand absentmindedly stroked through his hair. 

It was chiefly her propensity for stillness that he relished most. 

Malcolm's world had always been so fast paced, from as early as he could remember from a work point of view. Moments of relaxation were few and far between at Number Ten. In opposition he'd been desperately swimming against a tide of shit. 

High octane. Adrenaline fuelled.

Then, in the space of a few short weeks, everything changed. The end came so quickly that it was as if his throat had been cut. 

It had taken him time to adjust. 

Following hard on the heels of Goolding came marriage, the birth of a child, and a trial. 

Feet barely touching the ground.

Yet, throughout it all, his wife remained a constant. 

Somehow she managed to allow him room to grow without feeling either trammled or cauterised.  
She'd been there for him. Encouraging, positive. Bringing new focus to his existence, whilst leaving him scope to leave behind the regret. The bitterness. The monumental heap of shite. 

Washed clean. 

Emerging, reborn, into a new life.  
One where it wasn't a constant struggle for his own survival, forever watching his back, it was no longer him alone, against the world.  
He now had a wife. A tiny person (eventually to be three tiny persons) dependant completely upon him, who cared nothing for his past, his politics, or his self aggrandisement, who just needed to be fed, cleaned, kept protected, warm and safe. 

It was a complete fucking revelation. 

He'd always known Sam was a strong, resilient woman....fuck, she dealt with him and his hissy fits on a daily basis for five years without batting an eyelid!

_But it was SO much more than that._

It was her serenity. Her innate calm. It balanced his volatility. 

Thinking of his life back then was painful sometimes, he'd lost a great deal.......not least some of his pride and dignity.......but oh, he'd gained SO, SO much more.

Life now was still just as manic sometimes, but in a totally different way. 

Malcolm loved his life now. 

Because it _WAS_ a life. Not an existence. 

Happy, in a way he'd never even considered possible. 

Loved. 

With Sam's help he'd reinvented himself. 

Now a respected author. Bestseller. Literary award winner. But more importantly, Husband. Father. 

Laying here now, her soft thigh beneath his cheek.

Safe.

It was her greatest gift to him. 

The security he felt when they were together.

On Scarba that feeling had been cruelly ripped away from him, it affected him most profoundly, and on his return home it was the first and most important thing he needed to rediscover.  
The need to feel that blanket of succour around him once more. 

He felt it right now.

As he had in the bath the day before. 

Anchored.

She held him, bound. Tied metaphorically, wound around his body, his mind, cosseted with her love and deep respect. 

Malcolm needed that like the air he breathed. 

It was real. 

It was everything he held dear. 

Kept his feet on the ground.

From time to time, as his thoughts tossed and tumbled he gave a sigh, but as yet had offered no words. 

But it was coming, because it had to.....he HAD to express it....get it the fuck out there....move passed it......embrace it for what it was.......tell her......spit it out....all those feelings, all that emotion......" 

She knew better than to press. When he was ready, he would tell her. 

Fortunately she could not see his face. 

It was wet. 

However, and this was huge......for perhaps the first time ever, he did not feel shame.

Sam would understand. 

That was all he needed to know. 

Not laughed at, not ridiculed. Not belittled. Listened to. Able to confide. 

"I can still hear the storm in my head......" He whispered quietly, snuggling himself further into her embrace. "......it came from nowhere Sam......just blew up......I was fucking scared shitless." 

He felt her give a sharp little intake of breath. Held. Waiting. Patient. 

"Of course you were. Anyone would have been." She replied gently, her hand moving down to cup his shoulder. 

"I went down into the cabin to get stuff.....when I came up......Jamie was gone..... _fuck_......." 

"Oh _Malcolm_!"

The silence hung then, suspended. Broken only when he sniffed or sobbed, and her hand caressed his back. Pushing up under his jumper until her fingers connected with his bare skin. 

God it felt so good. 

Grounding him. 

"I didn't know it was gonna sink then.....I thought.....shit, he's overboard, and I don't know how to fucking sail this thing.....then I was dumped into the sea myself.....I remember thinking.....well that's it then. It's over. I'm gonna fucking drown......" 

By the time the whole story was told Malcolm was a weeping mess. 

If he was honest, he'd always felt he was a mess. But lately that sensation had subsided. Now, it was as bad as it had ever been.  
The difference was, that back then, it would all be swept under the carpet, held tightly within. 

Today he could tell it. 

Confess. 

Without fear. 

Put voice to his terror, his despair, the horror of finding his friend on the beach, the strain he'd endured whilst caring for Jamie. That they may not be rescued in time, as his condition worsened. Every moment, every thought.  
The whole fucking cahooney.

Pouring out. 

Tears and snot and saliva. 

Messy. 

Yet she never once was anything other than a rock. Not judgemental, nor interrupting, not dismissive or disbelieving. 

When he'd finished, and there was no more to be said, finally, she took his hands.  
Raised him up. Hushed him. Wiped his mucous face. Made him hot sweet tea. Soothed him. Held him. Kissed him. Took him to bed.

That night she held him closer than she'd ever done. 

Had him close his eyes, relax, lay back, while _she_ made love to _him_. 

"You're so beautiful Malcolm.......like no other man I've ever known........"

Sweet. Tender. Gentle. Taking him to another place. Outside of himself. 

Soft, velvety caresses. 

Drawing him out, exploring sensations, touching him in a way she really never had before. 

Fucking bliss. 

All he could do was surrender himself, embrace it, listen to the sound her hushed voice, whispering her feelings for him as she gave him such exquisite pleasure. 

Malcolm Tucker came harder than he ever had in his life. 

Totally wiped him out......

......and he loved every fucking second of it.


	25. One Big Happy Family.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer holidays. 
> 
> Malcolm is cooking breakfast for the children while Sam has a lie in. 
> 
> Jamie and Ellie are coming over later, and Malcolm has promised to take the kids to the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's around the end of July/August now. 
> 
> Sam needs a bit of TLC. A note here about her as a woman. She's always on to Malcolm about telling his feelings, letting go, confiding in her when he's lost, lonely or upset, and, to his credit, most of the time he does.  
> But oh boy, when the boot is on the other foot.....she's a woman....and us women....we hide it well don't we? Or we try to. No matter what. She doesn't want to tell him about her dream, because she thinks it'll upset him.....so she doesn't.  
> Not good! 
> 
> Jamie, is still trying to be like his best friend, and never feels like he quite measures up. But he'll get there! 
> 
> At the end of this final chapter I've included the newspaper article for the Herald which Malcolm agreed to be interviewed for. 
> 
> I'd just like to thank everyone for all the fantastic kind comments on this one.  
> I'm so glad you enjoyed it, it's gives me such a boost when messages come through.  
> So I'm very grateful. Xxxxxx
> 
> I have embarked on a story featuring Mark Jenkins and the cast of Skins. Which I will start posting, probably in the New Year. It will be written in episodes and will feature Mark, Sid's Dad, and be as close to the show as I can make it. However it will have a canon divergence in that Mark Jenkins will not be found dead in his armchair!! 
> 
> So look out for that one!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.  
ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY. 

_Just over two months later......._

Malcolm was up early. 

Making the kids breakfast. 

He'd had a rough night. Woken by his wife in the early hours. 

Sam was sleeping in, because he'd told her to. 

He held onto the bannister, calling up the stairs. 

" _KIDS!_ Breakfast! Last one to the table is a hairy monkey......" he yelled. 

The thunder of little feet came clattering down.

"Jamie....wash your hands please, they're filthy....how do you even have dirty hands first thing in the morning? Robbie, for God's sake take your wellies off......you're still in your pyjamas and you're indoors....."

"It's not my fault, I was using my felt pens and one leaked......" His eldest confessed. 

"Great! So is it everywhere......on your carpet.....all over the bloody show.....?"

"No....just on my pyjamas."

"Well you'd best go and get them then, so I can put them in some Vanish to soak.....  
_GRACE!_ Sit your wiggly bottom down! Before I tie you to the stool....."

His fidgeting daughter pouted rudely. 

"Don't give me that look young lady!"

"Why are you so grumpy today daddy?"

"I'm not grumpy.....I'm perfectly happy......it's just that you need to do as you're told and sit still....  
before something gets knocked over...."

"...... _Robbie_.....wellies......off.....it's not raining, and you're not going outside yet....."

"But Daddy, I like them.....they're new."

"Fine! Keep them on then. You'll have stinky, hot, sweaty feet....take your thumb out now please, it's time to eat."

Malcolm doled out plates.....knives and forks......poured cups of milk.......handed them napkins.....

Turning to the stove he took a fish slice and began to distribute pancakes. 

Jamie reappeared with his pyjamas in a bundle, liberally stained bright red. 

"Christ son.....what a mess! Bung them in the utility room and sit your wee arse down......chop, chop..." 

The three children set to, chattering noisily, passing each other the honey, the yoghurt, then the fruit he'd chopped up and placed in a bowl ready for them. 

"Aren't you eating some?" Grace asked, with one cheek full. 

"In a minute.....I'm taking a tray up to mummy first....." 

"Can I take it?" Robbie asked, waving his fork in the air. 

"No! I'm taking it myself.....you eat yours up....and stop flinging that fork about for crying out loud....you'll have Jamie's eye out in a minute.... _honestly_.......!"

Malcolm pushed down the plunger on the cafetière and placed it on the tray, alongside some pancakes, strawberries, yoghurt, a pot of honey, cup and saucer, and a little vase which contained some marguerites from the garden. 

oOo

Kicking the door open with one foot. The curtains still drawn, giving a muted light. 

"Sweetheart? You awake......" 

A mussed brunette head surfaced from under the covers, she sat up sleepily. Rubbing her eyes. 

"I made you breakfast......." 

"Oh, Malcolm! That's so sweet......thank you darling......" 

He laid the tray carefully over her lap, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed beside her. 

His pale sea foam eyes flitting across her face with concern. 

"How are you feeling?"

Her smile when she looked at him melted his heart. Reaching forwards she closed her hand over his.  
Squeezing. 

"Darling, I'm fine......really.....you mustn't worry......I'm just headachy and tired......"

"Doc says you should take it easy for a couple of days."

"I don't need to do that, it's just the knock on effect from all that's happened....I _told_ you not to ring him...."

Her husband's face crumpled without warning. 

Moving the tray aside, she put her arms around him, holding him close. Whispering into his hair. 

"Malcolm, don't do this.......it was just a nightmare.....people have them....." 

"You scared me shitless......"

"I know. I know." She smoothed his brow with her delicate fingers. 

Wiping his hand under his nose, he sniffed the tears away. 

"Fuck! Sorry Sam....I'm being stupid. But I just love you....that's all."

"I know that too. You're a dear, and I love you too......but I'm absolutely fine.....I'll take some paracetamol, just lie in for a bit.....let the headache go off.....okay?"

"Yeah. Okay......"

He rose, and crossed to the window, parting the drapes, looking out with unseeing eyes. 

"It's very quiet downstairs." She remarked, muffled through a mouthful of strawberry. 

"The rabble are eating their pancakes.....I put the bottom sheet in the washing machine....eco wash like you said....Jamie's got felt pen all over his jim jams....."

"Great. Thanks for that.....oh really? Well, it's not the end of the world."

"......and Robbie won't take his new wellingtons off." 

"That's not the end of the world either."

Arms came tight around his middle. Her head resting against his back. 

"Malcolm. Talk to me. It was just a bad dream. Why are you so upset?"

"I'm not. It's just the shock that's all. Waking to find you bathed in sweat like that, you were sobbing fit to break, it was horrible......I was worried......"

"I didn't mean to frighten you. I thought I'd gotten passed it.....obviously not."

He turned in her embrace, his arms clasping her to him, kissing the top of her head. 

"I know I've had my own bad dreams in the past.....I guess it happens when there's been a trauma of some kind, or you're worried about something...." 

She sought to deflect him, changing the subject. 

"I'm just glad I didn't wake the children."

"Christ! No chance! A fucking scud missile attack wouldn't wake them......."

"I guess these weeks have been so hectic, what with visiting Jamie, looking after Jess, the newspaper interview coming out, the baby coming so suddenly, and all the normal everyday things on top..."

She left the sentence hanging. 

"I feel so fucking inadequate, Sam. I've tried to do what I can.....I constantly feel bad, I want to be a good husband, a great father....and I keep fucking up......it's all that really matters to me." 

"Oh darling.....please don't say that......how have you fucked up? You're the best.....I can't tell you that often enough. You've been there for me every step of the way since we were in Scotland."

"No! _I haven't_. It's you who've been there for me. Helping me through it.....so strong.....so calm and serene....so fucking wonderful......I'm always the needy one, so you don't feel you can confide in me, tell me stuff......you're doing it now.....pretending you're fine so I won't worry......you need support sometimes too, and because my head's up my own arse, I don't give it. " 

"Malcolm, that's not true.....you do! That's why it works, we're here for each other. I've got you. You've got me....."

"I'm so fucking lucky."

"We both are...." Sam nuzzled his nose with her own.

"......I love you husband."

The pair sank into a long, deep snog, latched onto each other like two sink plungers. 

"Daddy.....Mummy......what are you _doing_? We want to go to the park now......" 

Piping voices filtered up the stairs. 

Malcolm pulled away reluctantly. 

"Sounds like I'm required."

Sam giggled.

"Sure does." 

His lips grazed hers with subtle little pecks, eliciting a moan from her, as he reached up to stroke her face. 

"Fuck! Sam.....so gorgeous.....I want you......" 

"DADDY! Where _are_ you?" Insistent now. 

Footsteps clumping up the stairs. 

"You go.....take them out for a while to run off steam.....I'll go back to bed for an hour....." 

"Okay......later then.....huh?"

"Jamie and Ellie are coming.....had you forgotten?" 

" _Fuck_ , yeah I had.......fucking McDonald, he always was a monumental pain in the arse." 

"You love him really!" 

"Yeah. That's the fucking trouble......I....."

The door burst open. Three pairs of accusative eyes surveying their parents critically. 

"Ugh! Are you two all smoochie smoochie again?" Demanded Jamie, with disgust. 

" _Kissy, kissy, mummy, daddy......kissy, kissy....mwah, mwah, mwah_...." Sang his younger brother, capering about. 

"Leave them alone.....they love each other, they're having a special cuddle that's all." Grace scolded, knowledgeably, trying to usher her brothers from the room. 

Malcolm and Sam parted. 

Laughing. Caught red handed. 

Giving his wife a little wink, he turned on his errant brood suddenly. 

"Right you lot! I'm coming to get you......" He cried, with a leonine roar......shrieks and cries and gales of laughter ensued as they all pelted down the stairs, with Malcolm hot on their heels. 

Sam regained the soft comfort of the bed with a wistful smile. 

He had no idea how much she loved him. How dear he was to her. Because there just weren't adequate words. 

She listened to the heffalump clatter of the children's booted feet in the hall. Although it was summer, the holidays, it had been raining. There were fresh puddles. The three were so excited. Wound up almost to fever pitch. Going out with Daddy. 

Curling herself up, closing her eyes. A sigh of contentment. 

She couldn't tell him.....

The dream of finding her husband lying dead on a desolate beach fading from her memory now. 

Banished from the realms of her waking life. 

Thank God. 

oOo

The living room in the Tucker house was peaceful and quiet. 

One of the few quiet places at the moment. 

Outside in the garden....mayhem.....four children all in football kit. 

Jess and Jamie versus Grace and Robbie.....with Uncle Jamie, wearing a shoulder brace, a rather ineffectual one armed goalie, standing, legs akimbo in front of the net. 

Sam and Ellie in the kitchen together preparing lunch. 

Malcolm snuck inside, alone. 

Far from the madding crowd. 

The raucous sounds of the garden died away. Hopefully they wouldn't miss him for a while. 

He closed the lounge door behind him. 

Over to where the pram had been left, out of harms way. 

Inside it lay a sleeping treasure. 

Just beginning to stir. 

Malcolm reached inside and took out the small bundle. 

Dressed in a white baby-gro, the legs of which were far too long, a soft knitted cardigan, a small cotton hat. 

Cupping the tiny head in his large hand, fitting the little one into the crook of his arm gently. 

"Hello, little man." He whispered, kissing the smooth forehead. 

The infant furrowed it's small brow, making little noises, like a mewing kitten.  
Pink mouth working, small fingers opening and closing into fists.  
Looking like a wee chinaman. Eyes screwed into slits. Little legs drawn up towards a pot belly. 

Malcolm had never held anything as small as this. 

His own three had been larger. Weighed more. 

But this wee rascal had decided to make its appearance three weeks early.......

.......Ellie had not been 100% since the sailing debacle. The stress of the situation then, and the subsequent hospitalisation of her husband had taken their toll. 

Her blood pressure was up, she was not sleeping well, and the doctors were keeping a close eye. 

In the end, nature made the decision for them. 

Labour began, fortunately, when Sam had called in to collect Jess. Jamie was thrown into an immediate panic. 

She took charge, (which was just as well, because Jamie turned from a perfectly normal human being into a clucking, mental, headless chicken) her unflappable presence just what Ellie needed. 

Phoned the hospital. Then Malcolm. 

"Malcolm, it's me. Ellie had gone into labour early. I'm going to take her straight in. Jamie is going to stay here with Jess for now....can you come over right away? You can bring him to the hospital in your car, then look after all the children together ...." 

"No worries....I'll round up the kids and be on my way......" 

Delivered by Caesarian. Weighing just 5lbs 2oz. 

Looking rather like the _'Tiny Tears'_ doll which Malcolm's sister Nancy had when they were both weans.......

 

.......He gazed down at the round shining face. 

A fuzz of brownish hair. Eyes which promised to be like his father's. 

"You are so precious, you tiny wee scrap, you know that?" Malcolm raised his elbow, bringing the child closer, as he rocked it gently. 

The little boy gave a little sneezy cough and a grizzle. 

"Hey....it's okay. Are you hungry lad? It's almost food time.....should I fetch your mama?"

Over his shoulder, he neither heard, nor noticed, Ellie open the door and creep into the room. 

She smiled to see her son cradled so lovingly by her husband's best and dearest friend. 

Crossing the room quietly, she laid her hands on Malcolm's shoulders and peered round him to look into the baby's face. 

"Just sneaking a bit of quality time with your little namesake?" She whispered, resting her head against Malcolm's arm. 

"Aye....can't get enough.....he's a wee belter." 

"He sure is. You want to give him this?" Ellie held out a bottle. " I was just coming to give him it.....but you can if you want....."

"You sure? I'd love to......but I thought you were feeding him yourself......"

"I am, but I expressed some earlier, I do sometimes.....so Jamie can do the night feed occasionally." 

Malcolm took the bottle and sat himself on the sofa. The little one propped comfortably in the bend of his arm. 

"Come on littl'un......grubs up....." He murmured, as the child, growing more fractious now, began to chase the teat in its eagerness to feed. 

Latched on, suckling lustily, noisily, with Malcolm speaking to him softly in his deep rumbling voice. 

"There we go.....that's it wee man.....my, but you're a gannet.....you'll get the burps if you don't slow down...."

Sitting the babe forwards, he rubbed his back between the shoulder blades, patting gently, chin held carefully with the other hand.....a practised expert.....

Ellie left him to it. 

"Don't you throw up on me now, my wee boy......baby sick is the fucking smell of doom....." 

He lay the boy back and continued feeding. 

From beneath the hand which supported the little padded bottom came rumbles, gurgles and resounding bubbly farting sounds. 

"Fuck me...." Malcolm said gently, "......in one end, out the other....." 

Jamie popped his head round the door. 

Malcolm looked up. 

"Your son has just shat himself......please tell me it's not oozing out the sides of his nappy....." 

His comrade laughed heartily. 

"You want me to take him.....?" 

"Nah....I may as well finish the feed, then I'll take him upstairs to the bathroom to change his bum....no doubt it'll be wall to wall faeces.....don't know why we don't just empty the milk straight down the toilet pan, cut out the fucking middle man....." 

"I tell you, he's a wailing, ravenous, shit machine......all he fucking does.....wee beggar.....I'm looking forward to my first unbroken nights sleep....." 

Jamie plonked himself down beside his friend, rubbing his hands through his own mat of hair. 

"Christ Almighty mate.....you look fucking knackered.....anyone looking at you would sure as hell know you had a young wean." 

Jamie wrinkled his nose. 

"Thanks for nothin'! Jesus! I can smell it from here.....makes me heave....." 

Malcolm laughed out loud. 

"Such a fucking wuss. It's just shit....." 

"Yeah, but it's like fucking Colman's mustard......yellow.....mooshy.....and there's tons of it......" 

"Twat! You've done all this before....with Jess.....it's not like it's your first."

"That was best part of four years ago....I'd forgotten all this bit. You don't remember do you, the crap parts? You only remember the cooing and cuddling and the first smile, all that sentimental bollocks!"

Reaching to the table, Malcolm set the empty bottle down. 

"I'll take him and change him.....but I'm gonnae go up to the bathroom, he might need hosing down....." 

"I'll come with you......bring his bag o' gear...."

The two men went upstairs. 

Once there, Malcolm laid the boy on his changing mat and began tackling the poppers on his baby-gro. 

"We've arranged the christening......you'll stand as Godfather eh mate......?"

"Course I will.....pass me the wipes, sunshine...... _oh dear sweet lord!_ How does so much shite come from such a little anus......?"

Jamie held his fingers over his nose in disgust. 

"Holy fuck! It's everywhere."

"Did Ellie bring a change of clothes for him? I think we're gonna need them." 

Holding the tiny pink feet together at the ankle to keep them up out of the mess, Malcolm deftly lifted the kicking legs, removing the excess poop with toilet roll, before using wipes, then dunking the youngster's backside unceremoniously in the sink. 

"And you're sure about the name......why'd you want to saddle him with that? It's child abuse." 

"Fuck off! It's too late now anyway, he's registered. Ellie wanted it as much as I did.....there was no other name on the list.....nothing else we would have called him."

"Oh well, have it your way.....he'll no' thank you for it when he's older." 

Dried, powdered and creamed, the small peachy bum was lifted once more, a fresh nappy slid underneath and rapidly fastened. 

"Mate.....you're so much better at this dad lark than I am.....could ever be....." 

"I've never heard such fucking nonsense in my life.....pass me that wee clean vest......" 

Three poppers under the crutch and the bairn was lifted up and cradled once again. 

"Don't fucking put yourself down mate.....you're a great dad......Jess loves you to death." 

Jamie shrugged, disbelieving. 

"Here, take him while I fetch another onesie for him.....he's getting sleepy now, he needs to be put down...." 

Jamie held his boy, looking down into his face, watching as he gave a yawn. 

"Can't help thinking.....if it wasn't for you, I'd a' never even seen him......an' he's so fucking perfect. I'm that proud. Bawled ma eyes out when they told me I'd got a son." 

"Will you fucking stop that! With the hero shite.....seriously Jamie! Give it a rest. He's a fucking little miracle, that's what he is. Just beautiful.....in spite of having _you_ for a father....." 

Jamie gave his friend a playful thump. 

"Fucking cheek! Mind you....I have to agree....he looks like Ellie....." 

"He fucking doesn't mate....he looks like _you_! Jess looks like Ellie.....he's got your eyes, chin, nose, the lot! I can see you in him all day long.....like when you were a wee lad.....those big eyes, he's a wee belter so he is!"

Malcolm took the infant back from his Da, pulling on his new baby-gro, before wrapping him cozily in a shawl. 

"I can't but look at him an' not think of Scarba......how close we came......it's fucking life changing stuff Malcy.....you can't deny it....." 

"I'm not denying it! But I am embracing it. _Yes_.....we came close. _Yes_....we were lucky. But we made it. We're here to tell the tale.....I don't believe in fate. What happens, happens.....when I married Sam she gave me a second chance.....a chance for a proper life......and Scarba was _your_ second chance.  
So....give thanks, like I am.....enjoy every second..... _and stop fucking calling me Malcy_....." 

Jamie brushed away an errant tear, laughing in spite of himself. 

"You're right! And I will try. I promise. Thanks Malc......thanks for being ma pal..." 

"Works both ways, sunshine.....thank you for being there for me too, brother." 

Now dressed, fresh and fragrant and with a full tummy, the wee bairn, limp, almost comatose, was laid back into the pram.  
Malcolm pulled the coverlet over carefully and tucked it round. 

"There you go wee Malcolm......sleep tight." He whispered. 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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